A Stitch In Time
by drakensis
Summary: When the founders of the Star League imagined their future, they never expected to meet the 31st century Periphery: six powerful nations with no fond recollection of their long-ago subjugation by the Star League.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

_The last decade has seen changes to the Inner Sphere on a scale not observed since the 2770s. No major interstellar state came to an end between the final collapse of the Rim Worlds Republic in 2775 and the partition of the Capellan Confederation in 3025. The widespread use of weapons of mass destruction had been unknown since the end of the Second Succession War._

_It gives new meaning to the ancient curse: May you live in interesting times._

_Hindsight, ever more reliable than foresight, suggests that factions within ComStar may have been the source of the well-equipped pirate forces that erupted across the Periphery in early 3020. The readiness of governments to usurp control of the HPG network in 3027 certainly gives credence to Primus Emilio Rachan's organisation being considered with great hostility before their departure from the Inner Sphere that year._

_The first signs of this potentially cataclysmic shift were the many tragic deaths among the leaders of the major Periphery states. While the death of King Hendrik Grimm III may have been coincidence, it is beyond any reasonable doubt that the near eradication of House Avellar, House Calderon, House Centrella and House O'Reilly in this period – not to mention the actual end of House Logan - was the result of a determined campaign of assassinations. No less than nine heads of state (including two Protectors of the Taurian Concordat and two Presidents of the Outworlds Alliance) would die by the end of the year and the realms of the Periphery were left with inexperienced leaders._

_The situation was ripe for exploitation and Chancellor Maximilian Liao was in need of a short, victorious war. It was fortunate for the Magistracy of Canopus that Savitri Centrella was a relatively close relation to the late Kyalla Centrella and somewhat prepared for the burden. However, it was their good fortune that initial reports of the nuclear device detonated above Samantha in the Taurian Concordat was initially traced to the Confederation._

_The sudden assault ordered upon the Confederation by Protector Jack Calderon took the pressure off the Canopians and also demonstrated to the Capellans other neighbours that they were over-extended. By the end of the year, several worlds had fallen and the CCAF had lost two of their famed Warrior Houses and the Death Commando battalion covering the fallback of their other forces from the Magistracy. Only the death of Janos Marik and Romano Liao to the same nuclear attack brought a measure of time for the Capellan state._

_The next shockwave followed at the peace conference on Terra where a concerted effect against pirate strongholds was agreed on by the Inner Sphere and even by the reluctantly attending periphery rulers. Unknown to most of the attendees, Archon Katrina Steiner took the opportunity to open negotiations with First Prince Hanse Davion that would ultimately become the Federated Commonwealth, an alliance that broadened almost immediately to include the Taurian Concordat. While the full details of that astounding agreement remain unclear even now, the establishment of the Taurian March of the Federated Suns, quickly explained at least part of the Protector's reasoning._

_For the next three years the Inner Sphere was simmering with tensions as the various pirate realms were either destroyed or frantically reforming to avoid invasion. Against this backdrop was the slow disintegration of faith by the Capellan people in House Liao, the efforts to arrange an anti-Federated Commonwealth pact and the ComStar civil war between the Blakist and Toyama factions. There was little doubt that another crisis could not be far away._

_In 3024, faced with increasing pressure over his reforms in the Free Worlds League, Captain-General Duggan Marik ordered an invasion of the Marian Hegemony under the leadership of his brother Thomas. What the Marik brothers apparently failed to recognise was that the Marians had been benefiting from excellent relations with the Lyrans and the Canopians. While the Lyrans were happy to finance the loan of twenty mercenary regiments in order to deniably weaken the Free Worlds League, Savitri Centrella had been scheming with Duchess Catherine Humphreys to liberate Andurien from Duggan Marik._

_The death of Thomas Marik in single combat against Caesar Marcus O'Reilly marked the end of the invasion of the Marian Hegemony, but was simultaneous with more than a score of provinces rising against Duggan Marik. By his sudden and surprising death late in 3024, Marian and Canopian forces were striking deeply into the Free Worlds League and the new Captain-General was forced to make considerable concessions._

_The next logical step would seem to have been the formalisation of the alliance, bringing the Marians and the Canopians into the Federated Commonwealth, a move that would have left the Free Worlds League and Capellan Confederation surrounded. However although grateful neither nation seemed inclined to fall in line and events swiftly overtook them._

_The Capellan Crisis unquestionably came within a hair of destabilising the entire Inner Sphere. The sudden defection of the Tikonov Commonality and several other worlds to anyone they could find who was not Elizabeth Jordan Liao prompted brutal use of nuclear, chemical and biological weapons against the traitors, against the Federated Commonwealth and Andurien as they moved to accept the defectors... and then on their Draconian and Free Worlds League allies when they failed to provide aid. Added to this was a wave of assassins that killed off targets as diverse as Coordinator Takashi Kurita and Ivan Steiner, fiancé to Rachel Calderon-Davion (what was expected to turn out as the other Steiner-Davion marital match)._

_Ultimately, of course, the weakened Capellan Confederation was not able to hold off their enraged enemies and by late 3025 the armed forces of virtually every nation known to have men and women under arms had ships and soldiers in the Sian system, united beyond the wildest dreams of Ian Cameron. After repeated demands for surrender were ignored and the spearhead forces landing were targeted for nuclear bombardment, Commanding General Jaime Wolf (a mercenary, entrusted with the lead on the basis of presumed neutrality) ordered the bombardment of several submarine faults from orbit as well as the destruction of critical industries with nuclear weapons._

_Life, it is believed, still exists on Sian. Like a number of other worlds exposed – or believed to be exposed – to biological agents, the planet remains under permanent quarantine._

Interesting Times: A History of the 3020s

By Professor Jaime Marnoch,

University of Samantha, 3031

* * *

Battletech

A Stitch In Time

By Drakensis

Disclaimer: Battletech was created by FASA and the license is now held by Catalyst. This work of fanfiction is not to be reproduced for profit.

Acknowledgements:

Firstly, gratitude is due to FASA for developing the Battletech universe and then to Catalyst for providing the Reunification War sourcebook.

Then to the Shattered Dawn group for their fanwork, TRO 2800 and the ship designs within. Some of them appear here.

Finally, to the players and GM's for Katar's Periphery Lords RPG on spacebattles, particularly those who reviewed as I wrote. You all know who you are. Thank you.


	2. Book One, Chapter One

Book One:

Curtain of Confusion

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, Deep Space**

**Marik Expanses**

**27 December 2576**

"We're where?"

Margaid Chon hadn't raised her voice but Osami Hayagawa flinched anyway. "We're in deep space, captain. About six hundred astronomical units from any stars." A distance that would take months to cross under conventional thrust, rather than the week or so from a standard jump point.

"So we're not, for example, in the Ayn Tarma system where we're supposed to be? Where we would be due a small but welcome bonus for arrival ahead of schedule with our official cargo here? Where we can charge our jump drive for free with that rather large solar sail strapped to the back of the ship instead of using up hydrogen stores to trickle charge from our reactor? From which we can jump across the border into Canopus with our unofficial cargo?"

"No, captain. It is possible that the nearest star is that of the Ayn Tarma system, I should know within an hour."

Margaid chewed on her lip. "Then it seems that we have had a small navigational error, Ms. Hayagawa. Something that would seem to be your responsibility."

The younger woman swallowed. "Yes, captain."

"Well, that's a little bit disappointing." Margaid's voice was still bland and there was nothing threatening about her. Except for her eyes, which had pinned Osami against the deck. "And since this is your responsibility, Ms. Hayagawa, please could you advise me what you will do to rectify the matter."

"I'll check my calculations, captain. Between that and the astronomy section I should know where we are soon. Once that's done I'll plot a jump to Ayn Tarma."

"And?"

A trickle of sweat went down Osami's back. How could Captain Chon be so frightening when she was sitting in a chair half the compartment away? "I don't know what more I can do!" she blurted.

A slightly predatory smile crossed Margaid's lips. "Well, if we are – as you suggested – only a third of a light year from Ayn Tarma, then it might be a good idea to also plot a jump onwards to Ruschegg in case I decide that given our non-appearance at Ayn Tarma on schedule, that arriving there late would be suspicious and might lead to undue scrutiny. Just a precaution, you understand. It would be unfortunate to have to stop using these registration details but it would be even more unfortunate to have the command module of the _Ivy_ vaporised by a naval grade laser, don't you think? And that's assuming your wishful hopes about our location bear out."

Because every member of the command crew of the _Ivy_ had a good idea of what Margaid Chon considered professional behaviour, none of them laughed at Osami as she retreated out of the compartment, tail between her legs.

"How much of a problem do you think this will be, Captain?" asked Sara Volkman from the engineering station. Responsible for the jump drive, Sara would be the second most important person on the _Ivy_ even if Margaid wasn't grooming her for a command of her own in the Centrella's trading fleet – which was the ship's true allegiance even if documentation currently showed her home port as being Kanata in the Free Worlds League.

Margaid shrugged. "As far as blowing our cover... not very much. Everyone knows Marion Marik is almost ready to move and at that point we'll be back under our true colours anyway, supporting the war effort. As far as charging the drive off the reactor... that's your area."

"What, do I look like I suddenly turned into some sort of amateur?"

"Quite." Margaid smiled slightly. "The other issue is the navigation."

"I have to wonder how Osami bollixed the calculations up this badly."

"Hmm. Speaking as a navigator myself, I'm a little curious myself as to how she 'bollixed it' as you put it, without killing us all. The chances of a misjump are much higher than the odds of jumping into a star or something." The captain pulled up a repeater of the navigational display. "We've got a week or so to figure it out."

"Eight days, just to be on the safe side."

"Quite. Time enough to go through the numbers myself. Don't tell Ms. Hayagawa," added Margaid. "She's shaken enough without knowing that I'm looking over her shoulder the whole time."

* * *

**Crystal Palace, Crimson**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**29 December 2576 (3031 local calendar)**

Magestrix Savitri Centrella was fond of the new Central Committee Chambers. She'd had no small hand in their glass-and-steel gothic architecture (for obvious security the glass was reinforced to the same degree as that covering Battlemech canopies) and when the Committee was not in session would occasionally co-opt the room as a private thinking space. The broad central aisle between the crimson seating left ample space for her to walk up and down the room, which she claimed helped her to cogitate.

"I could certainly believe that the Federated Suns or Free Worlds League might suffer some widespread failure of their HPGs – although the League had more Blakist defectors than even we did and the Davions have NAIS. But both at once?"

"Some sort of Toyama booby trap?" Saribek Wiegel suggested from the comfortably padded benches on one side of the chamber (by unspoken custom the Magestrix's staff sat on the government side of the room when attending on her there, and visitors on the benches of the loyal opposition). "But if we'd cleaned out such a trap, we would know about it, no?"

Yun Sun, senior manager of Canopian Telecom and one of the Blakist defectors from ComStar that had made their way to the Magistracy almost a decade before, cleared his throat. "We found no such traps left by the heretics when the stations were seized."

The Magestrix strode up to the wooden throne that occupied one end of the room, took two steps up the dais and then turned to walk back the other way. Someone taller could have ascended the dais in one step, but at just under one hundred and fifty centimetres tall, the Magestrix preferred not to skip steps. She took much the same approach to her workload.

"And if Emilio Rachan's ComStar hated _anyone_ more than they hated Hanse Davion and by extension the Federated Commonwealth, then it was us." She said it with a certain pride. "There is no chance at all that they would have missed the chance to leave us a few presents if they'd realised we were about to seize their stations."

"So if we eliminate coincidental accident, what are we left with. Collusion between them against us?"

There were some chuckles. Nightmarish as an alliance between the Free Worlds League and the Federated Suns would be for Canopus, it wasn't really likely.

"Quite. If nothing else, if that was happening why would we still be receiving communications from the Marians and the Taurians?"

The Marians were allies of the Free Worlds League and Draconis Combine, something that Savitri ascribed to a very close personal relationship between Caesar O'Reilly and the current Captain-General. Not that there was anything wrong with that in principle – Savitri had flirted with the idea of a marital alliance with the previous Captain-General and wouldn't have said no to advances by Kristen Marik for personal reasons, only political ones – but it left the Magistracy and its Andurien appendage caught between them and the Taurians, who were a Federated Commonwealth member-state 'for the term of office of the current Protector'. Since Jack Calderon had married a niece of Archon Katrina Steiner, Savitri wouldn't have bet her non-existent wedding ring for the chances of the next Protector not being a Fed-Com loyalist.

In the twelve years since the death of the previous Magestrix, she'd seen the polarisation of the Inner Sphere spread into the Periphery until only two known realms could be considered neutral – and the Outworlds Alliance was caught in a similar vice.

Something was going to break loose one day and despite the millions that would die as a result, Savitri was half-tempted to wish that it happened before someone made her an offer she didn't dare refuse. She didn't think that this was that day, however.

"Message to Archibald," she said, gesturing in the direction of Saribek. Duke Archibald McCarron was Senior General of the Magistracy Army and _de facto_ commander of the entire MAF. "Alert the First and Fourth Light Horse, his Fifth and Sixth Armored Cavalry and the First Magistracy Highlanders to prepare for redeployment to Watermael as an operational reserve. For now we'll just call it a short-notice test of the Support Corps and Transport Fleet's capabilities. I'd like to see some improvements since last year's embarrassment."

"Also I want all battle groups from the Luxen and Canopian Sector fleets to rendezvous over Watermael as well. It leaves us a narrow window of vulnerability until the Luxen and Canopus Defense fleets can bring their own battle groups fully into commission but it gives us a respectable hammer to drop if we're wrong and this is a prelude to invasion."

If two battleships, twelve battlecruisers and their supporting carrier and escort dropships weren't enough in the way of reinforcements, then likely nothing would be. Which was a good thing because the first warships destined for the Defense fleets in question wouldn't leave their construction slips for another two months at best.

"What's next on the agenda," she asked.

Menlo Drews cleared his throat. "Will the current situation prevent you and Duchess Ehlana visiting Andurien next month?"

Savitri turned her head slightly towards him as she approached the throne again. "I don't see why, General. If anything it puts me closer to the border and shortens the command loop for any decisions that have to be referred to me." Her expression softened slightly. "And I don't want to deny Ehlana chances to experience her home."

* * *

**FSS **_**Kathil**_**, Nadir jump point**

**Malagrotta system, Taurian Concordat**

**5 January 2577**

There was a degree of _déjà vu _to the arrival of Task Force 2.6 into the system. Not quite four years had passed since another of Task Force Two's components had been summoned to the border system to deal with Taurian aggression against Federated Suns. Vice-Admiral Derek Tennyson was slightly amused by the fact that the make-up of the two flotillas was almost identical: a single New Syrtis-class carrier (his flagship, FSS _Kathil_), two Davion-class destroyers and four Vigilant-class corvettes handed over to the Federated Suns Navy by the Terran Hegemony under the New Avalon Accords. The supporting element was the only difference: although the FSS _Woodbine_ was the same transport that had been sent previously, it was escorting a pair of new Vanguard jumpships, the drop-collars filled with Leopard CV, Manatee and DroST IIA dropships.

Since the previous incident the Star League had kept a response group close and when a courier jumpship was seventy-two hours overdue, the Task Force had been order to investigate.

"Let's hope it was a false alarm or at least that we aren't too late." Mikhail Rostov (no relation to the Civil War general) was not in the same compartment: as Tennyson's flag-captain and third-ranking officer in the flotilla (after Rear Admiral Amelia Tesnohledek aboard the _Woodbine_) he was in the back-up bridge, positioned five hundred metres behind the bow, in the dorsal fin that housed much of the _Kathil_'s sensor array.

Tennyson shrugged. "It is what it is." The sensor arrays were still building a picture of the system and any tactical threats. There did not appear to be any immediate threats, which was good. Nor were there signals being directed to them by the Davion mining colonies in the system's many asteroid belts. Hopefully that was merely due to light speed lag. "I'm curious as to what caused that little diversion though."

Arriving six hundred astronomical units out from the Malagrotta system had been rather unexpected, particularly as each ship's navigational plotting had been checked by at least one of the others. Every single navigator on ten separate jumpships making the same mistake was rather beyond the reach of credibility.

"We're looking at one of two possibilities, in my opinion." Rostov cracked his knuckles. "Firstly, some sort of bizarre gravitational anomaly that affected us all uniformly."

"I suppose a physicist might be able to think of something like that," allowed the Vice Admiral. "Let me guess, the other possibility is sabotage."

Rostov nodded. "I don't like the idea, but it's possible the Taurians inserted some sort of computer worm in our navigational systems that had us jump to the wrong co-ordinates. Possibly to buy them time for whatever they're up to here."

"That would be rather difficult to co-ordinate. And of course, if they're doing that why simply delay us. I'm no engineer, but I'd imagine it would be possible for such a security breach to rid them more permanently of us."

"I agree it's not a perfect answer," agreed Rostov. "But what else are we left with? That somehow they moved the system?"

The tactical displays updated, interrupting the conversation and both turned to their own monitors. Rostov was the first to break the silence. "Perhaps they didn't move the system but they've certainly moved a lot of metal."

As on previous visits, the various stations supporting mining operations were plainly visible as sources of radio emissions, but the number wasn't quite right and nor were their positions. And besides that there were quite a number of other stations. And ships.

So many, many ships.

"This is a warfleet," Tennyson agreed. "Those can only be warships." He took the measure of the numbers present. "Around a hundred of them. This has to be the core of their fleet."

Rostov grimaced. "They can't possibly have missed our arrival. And we can't jump out again for days."

"You're right. And wrong." Tennyson's lips tightened. "All ships are to take up a defensive formation around the transports. They're also to hot-charge their drives."

"That's a terrible risk." Rostov didn't have to elaborate. Charging a jumpdrive was a long, slow process because to do so faster risked damaging the delicate jump core. Specialist equipment from recharge stations could circumvent that problem, but it wasn't possible – at least not yet – for jumpships to carry such apparatus. And the most dangerous thing was that it was almost impossible to tell if the drive was damaged without jumping. "Sir, I may be Russian, but I don't enjoy roulette."

"Dying in battle against overwhelming odds may sound valiant," Tennyson replied, "But we have a mission to complete. And a responsibility to the men and women aboard. Once at least two ships have jumped without any sign of trouble, the rest of us will abort and head into the star's exclusion zone where we can't be jumped upon. Then we hide if we can, run if we can't and fight if we must until relief arrives."

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, Zenith Jump Point**

**Ayn Tarma system, Magistracy of Canopus**

**5 January 2577 (3032 local calendar)**

Osami almost cried when she saw the astronomical data for the star they had jumped towards. The star matched Ayn Tarma's profile and it even had the right number of planets orbiting at the right distances. Unfortunately none of them were in remotely the right points of their orbit according to the navigational data.

"Not your fault."

The young navigator turned and was surprised to see that Captain Chon was directing an almost sympathetic look in her direction. "Captain?"

"Someone in the League's navigation department must have given us faulty data," Margaid explained. "It might be why we missed on our first jump as well – your calculations were spot on as far as I can tell."

Osami nodded in relief.

"Uh, captain?" There was a worried note in the voice of Mela Kocinski. The oldest member of the bridge crew, Mela was also the longest-serving aboard the _Poison Ivy_, the daughter of one of Kossandra Centralla's 'Black Brotherhood'. "Isn't Ayn Tarma supposed to be a fairly small colony?"

"It's a fairly recently settled world, maybe fifty thousand people. There are a couple of SLDF Regiments posted here, we're shipping consumable supplies that aren't made locally. Why?"

"I'm picking up a lot of radio traffic. It sounds more like a colony. A _major_ colony. I don't think we picked up this many signals last time we stopped at Andurien."

Margaid stared at her. Andurien had a population in the millions. "What sort of signals?"

"I'm not sure. The signal coding is odd – not encrypted, just very sophisticated. Most of it sounds like civilian traffic, there's even what sounds like a traffic control station."

"Traffic control? Is there much traffic out here?"

"Some." Mela adjusted some controls. "Ah... including a modest little dropship that's ambling in our direction. And if that isn't a military IFF then I will eat my shirt."

The air inside the compartment seemed to chill. If Margaid noticed, she didn't show any sign of it. "What is their ETA?"

"Three hours and fourteen minutes, assuming they stay on one-gee thrust."

"It would be rather convenient to be able to speak to them then, because we aren't about to fight our way out of this." The _Ivy_ was well armed for a jumpship, mostly because it was an old colonisation-era vessel with an expensive compact core. That didn't mean it was armed well enough to fight off anything larger than a couple of light aerospace fighters.

"We could try signalling them," Osami suggested. "Just because we don't know their signal coding doesn't mean that they don't know ours."

"Not a bad idea." The captain bestowed an approving look upon the navigator. "Mela record this for re-transmission: This is Jumpship _Poison Ivy_ registered out of Kanata. We are experiencing navigation and communication problems. Please do not enter our likely jumpfield unless your life insurance is up to date."

Mela touched a few controls. "Recorded and being looped on the usual emergency channels. So far as I can tell, they're still in use."

"Batten down the hatches and make sure anything remotely suspicious is hidden properly." Margaid paused in her orders and smiled thinly. "Which isn't to say hide everything illegal. I'm sure that any marines boarding would be astounded if they discovered this was the only ship in this corner of the universe without its own still or a small stash of luxury goods that hadn't unaccountably missed being stamped by customs."

It took less than fifteen minutes for a reply to be received. The voice was male, fairly young and also with a certain professional confidence. "_Poison Ivy_ this is HMS _Guisarme_, Jason Miramar commanding. We are a patrol vessel of the Canopian Navy Royal and will be at your location in a little under three hours so if you need to put your crew in escape pods, rest assured that we will be able to pick them up. Please provide details of your emergency."

Margaid raised her eyebrows. "Canopian Navy _Royal_? I wonder what that's about. For that matter, what's a Canopian military vessel doing in League space." She gestured to Mela to open the channel. "Captain Miramar, this is Captain Chon of the _Poison Ivy_. Either our navigational data or our computer is defective. We are also experiencing trouble with the encoding of most radio traffic in the system. Can you confirm this as the Ayn Tarma system?"

She had to wait a few seconds for the response as radio waves spanned the distance between the two ships.

"That is confirmed, Captain Chon." The naval officer seemed slightly amused. "This is Ayn Tarma. I'm not sure what could be causing your encoding problem although this is a pretty old format of transmission that you're using. You may not bhe the only ones having navigation trouble." His voice grew serious. "We have quite a bit of overdue traffic in the last few days. Where did you jump from?"

"Mauripur originally. We wound up in deep space, about six hundred AU outside the system had had to jump again to get here."

"Very strange. I think you're the first ship to make across the Canopian-League border since Christmas." There was a brief pause. "We were beginning to think the League had vanished. There hasn't even been any HPG communication since then. Do you have any idea what's going on there?"

She had the presence of mind to gesture for Mela to cut off the transmission. "Does anyone know what a HPG might be and how it relates to communication?"

There were no positive responses.

Margaid opened the channel again. "I'm sorry Captain, I really cannot help you there. None of us are aware of any problems."

Miramar sounded disappointed when he replied. "I'm sure one of the ships we sent to re-establish contact will return soon. In the meantime, we will provide all aid that we can."

HMS _Guisarme_ proved to be a spherical vessel rather larger than a Black Ball freighter but vastly smaller than the _Poison Ivy_ of course. Jumpships, by their very nature, jumped in-system vessels and mere dropships.

That didn't make the little ship any the less threatening though. Even a cursory examination displayed two doors suitable for launching fighters or gunships from and the hull was marked by almost a dozen turrets.

"I think those are missile launchers," Mela observed to Sara, who was on the bridge watching the ship manuvering. "And are those lasers?"

The engineer twitched. "There's no need to sound so excited about this."

One of the hatches slid open and a large shuttle craft edged out before turning slowly towards the _Ivy_'s own small craft bay.

"Do you think there are marines aboard?" the communications officer's face was guileless. "Lots of strapping young Canopian men to take us into custody."

"You're almost sixty years old," hissed Sara. "For god's sake, don't start anything with these people. We have no idea who they really are."

Mela grinned. "I can't think of a better way to find out. And it's not age, it's experience."

"Mela!"

"Ms. Kocinski. Stop working off your nerves by teasing Sara with your cougar habits." Margaid opened the hatch into the passageway that would take her down to the small craft bay.

"I apologise, captain." Mela bowed. "It will not happen again."

"That isn't license to turn on Ms Hayagawa either."

The communications officer pouted at the hatch as it closed. Then she smirked slightly. "I wouldn't dream of infringing on your pregoratives," she murmered after the departing captain.

Sara gave her a puzzled look and shook her head.

Down in the small craft bay, the shuttle – another unfamiliar design - had opened hatches even before the outer door was closed and pressurisation began. Pressure-suited men and women began to spill out. Some of them were armed – no great surprise – but Margaid was pleased to see that others carried tool kits and first aid packs.

The pressure suits were turquoise, with blue trim – the colours of the Magistracy Navy. One of them approached the hatch – an airlock for obvious reasons – leading into the rest of the ship and gestured towards it, obviously requesting permission to enter.

Margaid activated the controls, allowing the officer to enter with two of his crew, before closing it up and pressurizing. A moment later the inside hatch opened to admit the trio.

The man had removed his helmet and Margaid could see that he was young – perhaps still in his early twenties but already wearing the two diamonds of a Commander. He smiled engagingly. "Good day, might you be Captain Chon?"

"That's correct." She offered her hand. "Welcome aboard... Captain Miramar?"

He nodded. "Thank you, captain. I must say I'd never thought to board an old Aquila like this. She must be seven hundred years old!"

"Not quite that." Margaid returned the smile but mentally chalked up another mystery. Surely no naval officer could be unaware that even the very first jumpships were no more than four hundred and sixty years old. "Have you been posted here long?" She decided to test the waters. "I don't think that this was a Canopian world last time we traded in this area."

Miramar grinned. "It's the _Guisarme_'s first posting since she was launched but of course Ayn Tarma was ceded by the League back in '24."

When did we jump into the Twilight Zone? Margaid wondered. That first jump into deep space or when we jumped here?

"I've brought some of my engineers, we can have a look at your navigation and communications gear. Well, I say we. I'm going to have to wrestle with red tape. We do customs work as well as patrol missions I'm afraid."

"I thought you might." Margaid motioned him towards a small niche with two chairs and a tiny table attached to the wall. "I have the ship papers here."

If this was really a Canopian officer she could tell him about the contents of the secret hold. But if he wasn't... She watched him as he glanced through the ships documents, seeing a furrow forming on his brow.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" he asked.

"I'm not being deliberately funny. What's the problem?"

Miramar looked at her sceptically and tapped the record of port visits. "Would you might explaining why you apparently haven't visited a port in the last four hundred and fifty-five years."

"Pardon?"

"Captain Chon, I may look like I was born yesterday, but even I can tell the difference between the twenty-sixth and thirty-first centuries."

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**9 January 2577 (3032 local calendar)**

"What the hell do you mean a Davion fleet attacked Malagrotta!"

The Protector had surprisingly loud voice for a man who wasn't physically very impressive.

"Firstly the only fleet worth a damn within two hundred light years is ours and anything that could be scraped out of the yards at Filtvet." He picked up the report and threw it back across the desk. "Secondly, Hanse Davion isn't a bloody _moron_!"

"The ships encountered aren't listed in the Federated Commonwealth's naval records." Admiral Cain, chief of the Taurian fleet looked a touch out of place in the comfortable rooms of the Government Mansion. He looked like what he was: a fighting spaceman. "A New Syrtis carrier – I think we'd have noticed any being built. Fact is that the force structure is a pretty good match for what hit Malagrotta back in 2573 – before the Reunification War."

He left the report on the floor. "Two corvettes and a jumpship managed to get away. Lithium-fusion batteries or hotloading. Since one of the corvettes showed all the signs of a misjump, probably the latter. As you said, morons. They had no idea what they were up against and tried like hell to get away."

"And the rest?" Jack leant back in his chair.

Cain shrugged. "The dropships were blown apart. It happens when they take fire from warships. Admiral Navarro showed as much restraint as he could – no nukes, crippling shots where possible. One of the destroyers surrendered but the others fought until they were pounded to wrecks. Brave enough."

"There are survivors though."

"Yes. It's going to take time to get information from them though. The ones questioned so far claim that it's 2577 and they were rushing to the rescue of Malagrotta from 'Taurian Aggression'."

"Some blasted 'patriotic organisation'? They'd not have the resources to put together a war fleet. Even an Arch-Duke would have trouble getting that sort of force together." Jack pulled a bottle and two glasses out of his desk drawer and poured a finger of spirits into each. "This and losing HP communications with the Inner Sphere... I don't like it. Anything new there then?"

Caine lifted his glass. "Every single scout ship came back saying they wound up hundreds of astronomical units from any star. They didn't jump closer. Figured even there was a mistake or that they should report back rather than pressing on. We're still patching their astronomical sightings together but there's something bizarre going on. I want to lead an expedition there."

"No." Jack glared at Cain until he was sure that he wasn't going to be shouted at. "We need to restore contact with our allies. House Steiner and House Grimm might as well be on the other side of the universe right now but word has made it back from Garick Stark at Tortuga and we know Rachel Davion is there as well. I'm sending you out to Filtvet, your mission is to rendezvous with some of Stark's people there and then push onwards see if the Outworlds Alliance is still there."

"What if someone gets in our way?"

Jack smiled grimly and drained his glass. "What if they do?"

The admiral laughed. "I can take enough to make that stick, I hope?"

"How much do you want?" It didn't seem solemn enough in the room. Not when they were talking about what might be an act of war against whoever was out in the suddenly mysterious space that had replaced the Inner Sphere.

Cain refilled his glass, offering to do the same for Jack who declined. "I'll be drinking more at dinner," the Protector excused himself.

"Four carriers. Their escorts. And a scout force."

"Sounds like you want half a fleet."

"I don't believe in half-measures. Do you?" Cain's voice was challenging.

Jack snorted. "Take a whole fleet as far as Filtvet. Rachel might need the cruiser and missile battle groups until she can get the FSN units organised. The other three fleets can keep us safe."

"Remember to watch your other flank," Cain warned, finishing his second glass. "That witch on Canopus is no ally of ours."

"If worst comes to the worst, she will be." Jack hoped his confidence was well placed. Taurus was the largest and most powerful of the periphery states, it had led the way in using exports to fuel a phoenix-like economic boom. But losing their export markets could turn that boom into an imploding bubble. Canopus, with its fantastic wealth, might be the key to avoiding that.

* * *

**Ducal Palace, Jojoken**

**Andurien, Duchy of Andurien**

**13 January 2577 (3032 local calendar)**

It wasn't every little girl who had a castle of her own. Ehlana Centralla (aged eight and three-quarters) was one of the lucky exceptions. She and her sister Catherine, born almost two years after her, were therefore enjoying the benefits of re-exploring the ancestral Humphreys home while their father Richard re-explored the bars and brothels of the city around it.

It was an equable arrangement in the eyes of Savitri Centrella. Her husband didn't complain about being passed over for the ducal crown in favour of his infant daughter and in return neither the daughter nor her regent infringed on his debauchery. It had been a political arrangement, never even solemnised with wedding vows, blessed more by the late Duchess Catherine and her need for allies to support secession from the Free Worlds League than any great affection. Savitri occasionally wondered if she might have been better picking Richard's sister Louise, Canopian medical technology being well up to the minor assistance necessary for heirs under that circumstance, but matters had worked out well enough as it was.

Andurien lacked a legislatural body and Savitiri felt that creating one would exceed her authority as regent so there was no grand debating chamber for her to walk around. The nearest equivalent was the leadership of the Defenders of Andurien, which was at one and the same time the collective name for the Duchy's armed forces and for their premier BattleMech regiments and the associated brigades. The principle addition was the addition of liaison officers to the Magistracy Armed Forces, the Andurien Defense Fleet and the Andurien Sector Fleet. The fact that the latter two were components of the Canopian Navy Royal would undoubtedly become a problem at some later point. Unfortunately their command centre did not have enough floor space for her to pace.

At the moment a holo display was mapping out the borders of Andurien and Canopus with the Free Worlds League, Federated Suns and Taurian Concordat. Overlaid across this was a display of the historical boundaries circa 2577.

"I realise that the explanation that we're presented with is rather unbelievable," Savitri agreed, "But MIM do not at this point have any better explanation for what is going on. So for the sake of doing something productive, we need a contingency for dealing with the SLDF as it was immediately prior to their invasion of us back in that year."

The two maps rotated. "If we have for some reason been sent back to 2577, then it may be imagined that the Free Worlds League and Capellan Confederation will be a bit miffed with us. In the latter case, _particularly_ because I was embarrassingly present at the Battle of Sian, a _faux pas_ I hope you will all forgive me for. But getting back to the point, you will see that Andurien in particular includes many worlds that at this time were part of the Capellan Confederation, unsurprising as House Humphreys spent most of the last two and a half centuries carving their Duchy back out of the Confederation. The Free Worlds League, of course, has also lost several worlds."

"Is it just me, or wouldn't most of the SLDF staging grounds for this campaign be now under our control." Menlo Drew looked intrigued.

Savitri smiled. The answer was delicious, but she would be better handing off to an expert. "I will be calling on Admiral Carrington."

Stephanie Carrington waited diplomatically for her liege to sit before standing as otherwise the contrast between the tiny Magestrix and the towering commander of the Andurien Sector Fleet would be comical. "Lord Drew is essentially correct," she confirmed, tapping a remote to bring up lights indicating the SLDF's historical positions. While much of our current circumstances remain mysterious we can say with assurance that the planets and stars of 2577 are not interspersed with our own time period. Even allowing for stellar drift, which appears to account for why ships travelling in and out of the Inner Sphere are jumping to deep space rather than their destinations, we would have seen those systems by now."

"The SLDF invasion force under Captain-General Marion Marik was concentrated into a single Corps, rather than split into three separate Corps as the Taurian invasion force was. VII Corps was in turn divided into three Divisions, each as powerful as the other Corps of the SLDF, positioned on Watermael, Meadowvale and Tellman's Mistake. As the first two worlds are both part of the Duchy of Andurien, those two divisions can be discounted. Four independent regiments were stationed on Ayn Tarma, now part of the Canopian district of Ruschegg, and Leyda – then a Capellan world and now in the Duchy of Andurien."

"The SLDF were of course supported by an Auxiliary Corps drawn from the Free Worlds League Militia. Of the twelve regiments in this Corps, nine are also removed. Captain-General Marik – assuming she has not disappeared with one of her subunits – has lost approximately seventy percent of her forces. The largest remaining component – and still an impressive force – would be Twentieth Division, on Tellman's Mistake. Neutralising this force would essentially prevent any serious attack on Canopus or Andurien by the Star League for a minimum of six months."

Drew eyed the map. Tellman's Mistake lay at the far end of the Canopian border with the League from Andurien. "I take it that you intend to carry out that neutralisation?"

A new diagram appeared, drawing arrows from all corners of the Magistracy to Meadowvale. A single arrow then led across Ruschegg District towards Tellman's Mistake. "Ground forces have been alerted already for the movement via command circuit to Meadowvale. While not ideal as a staging ground, a further command circuit is being laid out to move them to the jump off point of Sharqah."

Savitri rose to her feet. "Admiral Carrington will be taking charge of a special Task Force of the CNR," she announced. "That Task Force will precede the ground forces, arriving at Tellman's Mistake as fast as possible, establishing a blockade to prevent their escape."

The Magestrix's face was predatory. "The SLDF soldiers will be treated in full accordance with the Ares Conventions. Our honour demands no less. But they are an active threat to the Magistracy and that threat will be destroyed."

* * *

**SLDF VI Corps Field Headquarters, June**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**13 January 2577**

The command centre was deathly silent. Relayed from the communications section during a general meeting, the report of the FSS Hawkwing was being heard by Major General Harmond Vriss - two of whose Divisions happened to be stationed on June – and by Admiral Sara Vincent of the FSN's Task Force Four, who was en route to her force's staging area at Panpour.

It was Vincent who spoke first. "A base at Malagrotta... perhaps that is why the worlds spinward of us have dropped out of touch. With so many concentrated there, they could dominate the region."

Vriss started calling up fleet listings. "On the other hand, if their fleet is concentrated here, what is covering their other bases? A shame we're not technically at war yet or we could strike to cripple their support base."

"If they've struck at Hoonaar or Great Gorge, or anywhere else we're out of touch with, that's war in my book."

"We don't know that that's what they've done."

"There's too much we don't know!" Vincent snapped. "But we do know that they hold Malagrotta in force. Those are FedSuns citizens and FSN crews that are waitng for a rescue."

"Admiral, we'd need the entire fleet assigned to our operations to take on a force that size. And they're spread all along the border – across two hundred light years. It would take weeks to assemble them."

Vincent glared at him for a long moment and then took a seat. "So what do you recommend, General Vriss?"

Vriss continued to pull up data. "We still don't know enough about what is going on. Or of how widespread matters are. Did you see that when the Hawkwing jumped back initially they missed June by the same margin that their initial jump to Malagrotta missed us by?"

"I did." She frowned. "But their second jump was on target, just as it was on the way out."

"Which probably means that the problem isn't the ships."

Vincent nodded slowly. "But in that case... no, that's ridiculous."

"I don't know the actual cause, but to all practical purposes it seems that Malagrotta has moved. We can let the physicists worry about the why. We're soldiers, we need to deal with the battlefield we're faced with."

"Alright, I can see that." She took a deep breath. "Hawkwing made it here but there's still a wrecked corvette and a jumpship with a drive that can't be relied on, hanging six hundred AU outside this system. I need to recover the crews there. And I'm calling every FSN ship I can get to this area. We need something here that can face the Taurian fleet."

"I've no argument with that," agreed Vriss. "We'll need to kick the ultimate decisions up to General Wexworth, perhaps even the Star League Council, but I'll request that local SLDF squadrons scout uninhabited systems along the border. If their jumps put them about the same distance from the systems then we can figure out how we need to adjust our navigation in order to reach the Taurian Worlds. And for that matter, check where this 'effect' starts to kick in."

He spread his hands. "All our maps are out, which means all our timetables went up in smoke."

Reluctantly the FSN Admiral nodded. "The First Prince isn't going to like this."

Vriss sighed. "Sara, he's a long way from being the only one."

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, High Orbit**

**Ayn Tarma, Magistracy of Canopus**

**15 January 2577 (3032 local calendar)**

"Alright, command conference," Margaid announced, sealing the hatch to the bridge.

"You couldn't have waited five minutes for me to use the washroom?" Mela asked, reluctantly taking her feet off the back of one of the spare jumpseats. She didn't stub out her cigarette though.

"You should have gone before we went." Margaid looked over at Sara. "Do we have any repairs to make before we leave?"

"Leave?" Sara blinked.

"I'll get to that in a minute."

The engineer shrugged. "We're on standard maintenance jobs only. As far as I'm concerned we can leave as soon as we charge the drive, which will be just over forty-four hours at current rates."

"Good." The captain looked over at Osami. "Ms. Hayagawa, what do you make of the navigational data we were sent?"

Osami, her eyes red-rimmed, glanced away from the other three women. "Ah... they're consistent as far as I can tell, Captain. I don't really have much data on the stellar drift patterns over four hundred years, but..."

"But you can use them?"

The navigator nodded sharply.

"Good enough." Margaid sat down in her own chair. "First point of the agenda, having visited the surface I can confidently say that they are not lying about us having somehow misjumped forward in time. There is just no way that anyone could fake an entire city - there must be half a million people just on that part of the planet."

None of them mentioned the possibility of jumping back. Hundreds of years of interstellar travel left them with no precedent for it accomplishing time travel by accident. Certainly no precedent for attempting it deliberately.

"Secondly, they've given me an overview of their history." She shrugged. "The War happened. We lost."

Mela gave her a pained look. "So we're in a Star League member state smuggling military electronics to a previous government that didn't want to be part of the Star League. How much trouble are we in?"

"Not much. Because it turns out that the wheel turned. The Star League collapsed after two hundred years or so and for most of the next quarter of a millennium, the Inner Sphere went back to war, which appears to have eradicated the Terries, the Rimjobs and the Crappies, while the Periphery pretty much stayed out their way." Margaid smiled, or at least showed a lot of teeth. "Think the Age of War but worse."

"The good news is that because those wars destroyed a good bit of the infrastructure, military technology hasn't advanced as we might think. Our cargo isn't cutting edge any more but it's not obsolescent junk. The local militia have offered us a fair price for it. Not great, but enough to keep us fuelled and fed for a little while."

"That's all very well, but it won't keep the shareholders happy," Mela pointed out. The _Poison Ivy_ might be a private ship but it wasn't Margaid's property. They answered to one of the merchant cartels back on Canopus.

"Shareholders?" Margaid raised an eyebrow. "What shareholders?"

"...oooh."

"Apparently the company folded with no assets hundreds of years ago. Even though the Centrellas owned it, any claim they had on us lapsed then. So the only shareholders we need to worry about are the ones aboard – which is you and I, Ms Kocinski. They might have been small shareholdings but they exist and the others don't."

"Well now, that is interesting."

"That was the good news." Margaid looked around at her ship. "Unfortunately, the _Ivy_ is far behind the times. We were already struggling against the dedicated jumpships that just ferried dropships around. Integrated transport vessels like the _Ivy_ couldn't compete and there aren't many left. I've got a contract shipping chemicals to Canopus, but because we can't load on the surface and have the canisters ferried up to us it's not going to pay all that well."

"The simple fact is, we're going to have to be pretty sharp if we want to stay in business in the thirty-first century."

* * *

**Marik Militia Barracks, Cole Harbour**

**Duchy of Andurien, Free Worlds League**

**2 February 2577**

Ian Marik had known since he was a boy that he would one day hold the fate of the Free Worlds League in his hands. But he had never imagined circumstances like this.

Looking at his son's face he could imagine what his own must look like. "Chancellor Liao finally came out of her vow of silence or whatever was keeping her trap shut," he said tightly. "Apparently they've lost contact with dozens of worlds along the Periphery. Almost half the Sian Commonality and just about all of the Andurien Commonality might as well not even exist."

Brion swallowed. "Well at least Duchess Humphreys isn't here to complain." His voice was light, masking shock. That was far harder than the same phenomenon had struck the Free Worlds League.

Except that Chancellor Ursula Liao wasn't been on one of the affected planets. Brion's grandmother, Captain-General of the Free Worlds League and commander of the SLDF's VII Corps had been last reported on Kanata, celebrating Christmas with Duchess Melissa Humphreys and doubtless plotting the League's foreign policy for the next few years.

Now Kanata was out of contact along with the two brigades of Ian's First Marik Auxiliary Corps stationed there. At least six other worlds were – according to ships trying to reach them – not where they should be. And all had radio traffic significantly different from was expected. Per Marion Marik's standing orders, the ships – mostly civilian supply vessels – had returned to their last call rather than enter what might be a combat situation.

"Right now, the Fifth Marik Militia is the only regiment placed to guard the Andurien worlds we still have contact with." Ian glanced at the map. "The Fourth Militia and First Fusiliers are on post in Regulan space and I haven't heard back from the SLDF Division on Tellman's Mistake. I'm needed here straighten things out, but the last courier from home has orders from Parliament."

"Oh?" Brion frowned. Byron Allison, Duke of Oriente, was supposed to be keeping matters on track on the League's capital of Atreus.

Ian nodded. "With mother missing they've elected me as Captain-General in her place."

"That's rather quick."

"It is. And they've also recalled me to Atreus. They apparently don't want to risk losing a second Captain-General to whatever is going on." The new Captain-General massaged his face, feeling the tension in his cheeks. "Obviously any offensive action is out of the question until we know what's happened to those fifty regiments."

"What can I do?" Brion looked at the map helplessly. It wasn't the first time that he'd wondered if he might have been better taking on a military career like most of his family. Now all he had was the childhood education in such matters to fall back on.

Ian could guess his son's thoughts easily. "I've got an important mission for you. You've visited Canopus before, even met the Magestrix."

"Yes."

"It seems to me that this is some sort of cosmic accident, a natural disaster. I doubt that it ends at our borders. I'm going to send you back to Canopus. You'll have a small escort but you'll also have diplomatic credentials. Go via uninhabited systems, correcting for the navigational problems as you travel. If Canopus has been affected as well, it's the best place to discover its impact on Reunification. If it hasn't perhaps you can convince Crystalla Centrella to compare notes."

Brion nodded slowly, eyes focused on something far away. "Yes, probably. She's a pragmatist at heart. We're looking at four or five jumps though. Call it a three month round trip."

Ian nodded, then stood and walked over to Brion. "This could be dangerous. If the Canopians have taken losses they might think that we are to blame."

"How could we possibly have done something on this scale?"

"I'm surprised at you." Ian rested one hand on his son's shoulder. "You're an economist, you should know that people aren't always rational."

Brion grinned, looking younger than his twenty-seven years. "Okay, you've got a point. Still, being locked in a dungeon by Crystalla Centrella isn't the worst of fates."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Try to remember that you're a married man. Think with the head on your shoulders." He patted his younger son on said shoulders and then turned back to his desk. "I'll send someone to tell you about transport arrangements, so you should start packing. Now give your old man some peace. I've got to write to Therese. Hopefully the Capellan goat she mated with will have some influence over the Chancellor."

Brion winced and turned away. His sister Therese's marriage three years ago to William Liao had been divisive to say the least. As far as he knew, Ian had never even met his grandson from that marriage.

Still, besides packing, it would be worth writing to his own children. It might be his last chance.

* * *

**Grimm Keep, Oberon VI**

**Oberon Confederation**

**14 February 2577 (3032 local calendar)**

Katherine Dormax was bemused when she realised that 'barbaric splendour' of Grimm Keep was more of a pirate chic, overlaid upon a modern looking military fortification. Medieval crenellations were mixed with sleekly advanced turrets, a defiant skull-and-crossbones flying above it all and adorning the pair of BattleMechs, _Griffin_s that must have been obtained from the Terran Hegemony at some point, that guarded the gates.

On her way from the spaceport – no, even before, since entering orbit – Katherine had been astounded at the array of industrial and military might on display. Not because the Rim Worlds could not match it – they could – but that any small state could have amassed such a position without attracting the acquisitive attention of House Steiner, House Kurita or – she admitted with rueful honesty – House Amaris.

The limousine pulled up in front of great doors large enough to admit her own _Phoenix_ BattleMech, guarded by yet another matched pair of 'Mechs. These two were of an unfamiliar design, armour styled to appear somewhat like a medieval knight. Slowing a moment to take it in, she spotted several laser muzzles and what was probably a PPC mounted co-axially with the right forearm. Formidable, particularly if it was a domestic design.

Her escort gestured politely towards the door, a small panel of which had swung open to provide human-sized access without having to wrestle with the weight of the entire doors.

The chamber inside was unsurprisingly tall enough for a BattleMech to enter, although shadowed galleries and decorations would have confined any such war machine to the central area. The floor was uncarpeted, but spilling down from the dais at the far end was a banner, sized to be carried by a BattleMech. To Katherine's astonishment, it appeared to be the ceremonial colours of a Lyran regiment, although not one she was familiar with. The Sixty-Fifth... She shook her head slightly as she walked across it. Generations of people had walked across the fallen banner, rendering much of the decoration illegible.

The dais held three people. A young woman sat on the principle throne, while a slightly older man occupied the smaller throne to her left. A second throne to the right was unoccupied, but she guessed that it was the notional place of the small boy sat upon the woman's lap.

Another banner proudly displaying the skull-and-crossbones sigil she had seen before, but that above the consort was a teutonic-looking cross, quartered with a fox. Neither heraldry suggested obvious connections.

A loud-mouthed flunky off to one side bellowed "Colonel Dormax of the Seventh Amaris Legion," as Katherine reached the foot of the dais. She could only see him from the corner of her eye but she swore he was practically spitting onto the floor with the words. Still, the obligations of etiquette were ingrained in her so she saluted the evidently royal family.

The woman rose to her feet, still holding her son in front of her. "Colonel, your reputation precedes you. Is it correct that you have risen in rebellion against your liege lord and driven him from his own capital?"

That was to the point. She hadn't even introduced herself, although fortunately Katherine had at least picked up her title and could guess at a suitable form of address. "It is true, highness."

The Queen smiled. "From everything I've heard about Gregory Amaris, I'm disappointed that you haven't put his head on a pike."

"It, uh, didn't seem like the right moment," Katherine temporised. These people might be advanced but they didn't seem terribly civilised.

Her response was an amused smile. "So, I imagine that you have come here because five worlds that once swore allegiance to Amaris now bow to me." The Queen looked to one side. "Someone bring the Colonel a chair." Then she looked back at Katherine. "And of course there is the matter of the Second and Fifth Amaris Legions that were posted upon two of those worlds."

Katherine accepted the simple wooden chair carried out to her by two guards. Neither man was armed, which surprised her until she saw that their rifles were being held for them by other soldiers. "You are correct in your assumptions, your highness."

The Queen waved her hand in dismissal of the formality. "You may call me Charlotte and I will call you Katherine."

"Thank you." The RRA representative had to admit that she had never had a comparable invitation from Gregory Amaris. "The Provisional Government also wishes me to advise you that while the Rim Worlds Republic may have internal difficulties at the moment we will unite against a foreign invader. Should you not withdraw from the worlds you have occupied then we will expel you from them by force."

Katherine's breath was shallow as she waited for a response. If these people were to decide to discard diplomatic niceties then she might be facing her death. For a moment she wondered if her rivals within the Provisional Government had sent her here for that very reason.

Queen Charlotte's smile merely widened slightly. "My dear Katherine, I don't think that you or the Provisional Government really understand what has happened. Jerric, would you be so good as to explain?"

The man at the queen's side rolled his eyes. "This is because of that business with the jar, isn't it?"

There were chuckles from a few corners of the large room. It seemed that the consort was popular with his wife's court.

Jerric leant forwards. "You see, Colonel, we're not some small realm that the other nations of humanity have simply overlooked. It's understandable that you might have believed it, it's certainly the simplest explanation, but the truth is far stranger. Surely you've noticed that all worlds we have 'occupied' are in slightly different locations from those your navigators expected?"

Katherine's eyes narrowed. "I have, yes. Do you mean that it was your doing?"

"Hardly." Jerric's smiled turned grim. "Although if we were able to do such things, we would hardly be intimidated by your Republic, now would we?"

She couldn't help but shiver at the though. If any nation was so powerful that they could actually move a star, then they would surely have the power to dominate the entire human race. "A fair point."

"The reason that the star systems are not quite as expected is that their positions have changed by stellar drift. A region of space that includes all of the Oberon Confederation, has - quite inexplicably - been transported back in time by four hundred and fifty-five years."

"It's not entirely inexplicable," Charlotte disagreed. "Clearly some Random Omnipotent Being is screwing with us."

"What?"

Jerric sighed. "My wife believes that God – or _a_ God, since she isn't Catholic – is responsible."

"I don't believe this," Katherine exclaimed. "Time travel is impossible."

Queen Charlotte patted her son's back. "The universe does not require us to believe in it. It is as it is and it is up to us to survive it. In our time the Rim Worlds Republic is nothing but a distant memory and those worlds are_ mine_." She looked firmly at Katherine. "The worlds of your time along with the soldiers were either sent back to our time in our place or they were destroyed by our arrival."

The lounge that Katherine was taken to after the audience was a far more conventional chamber, with comfortable seats around a coffee table. A discreet servant was on call at the touch of a button to provide refreshments at Katherine's whim.

How could this have happened?

Surely it was impossible for some new nation to simply be slipped back in time. And yet, was it any more plausible for entire star systems to have moved other than over extensive periods of time?

Slumping into one of the chairs, Katherine decided that whether she believed it or not, she had no power to compel the Queen to say otherwise. She'd accepted transport on an Oberon jumpship so she didn't even have means to leave the star system without their consent.

She drew herself up. Alright, supposing that this was true. What did it mean? In their history the Republic had ended? In that case the soldiers she was looking for were long gone and the worlds would probably not wish to leave the allegiance that they were used to.

How had it happened? How had the Republic fallen? Was the Star League to blame?

The door opened and she saw the queen enter. She'd let her hair down and thrown a shawl on over the dress she had worn on the throne. "Perhaps this conversation is best had in more intimate surroundings," she suggested.

"If you're really from the future, you must know what happens to all of us."

"I know what happened in our past, at least what was recorded. By being here, we're creating a new history now. According to the history books you were defeated, although your own fate is something of a mystery. Most people believe that you died during the SLDF invasion of Apollo but your body was never found."

Charlotte walked over to the window and looked outwardly. "Gregory Amaris didn't enjoy his victory for very long, but House Amaris survived and in the end their ambition tore the Star League apart. The other Houses fell into civil war and the Republic, already exhausted, was among the first to fall. Many worlds were annexed by the Lyrans but others went their own way. During the wars my great-grandfather's regiment was betrayed by their ruler and came here. Over the years we carved out our own empire, uniting surviving colonies and founding new ones. You might say that we'e a successor state to your Republic."

Katherine rested her head in her hands. "Then we're doomed. The Star League will condemn us to more generations of being tyrannised by House Amaris."

"Not necessarily."

The colonel looked up and saw that Charlotte was still looking out of the window. "The Star League is committed to campaigns against the other three Periphery realms and those will be long, hard wars," the Queen predicted. "It will be many years before they can send aid to Amaris. So you have time."

Then she turned to Katherine. "And I have a four century advantage in technology over the Star League. Alone, either of us could be crushed. Together..."

"You're proposing an alliance?"

"Yes. But there is a price."

Katherine shook her head. "No doubt. And why should I believe that you would be any better than Amaris?"

"You think that I'm going to ask for leadership?" Charlotte seemed amused. "Oh, I'd not refuse if you offered but I'm offering you alliance, not servitude. My price is one of commitment."

"Commitment?"

The queen nodded. "If the Rift Republican Army wants my support then I require the complete and final end of House Amaris."


	3. Book One, Chapter Two

A/N:

There has been some question of who some of the characters are, particularly as some are OC based on a still running RP. So here for your pleasure are some of the _Dramatis Personae_:

**Callum Avellar**, President of the Outworlds Alliance

**Elisabeth Calderon**, eldest child of Jack Calderon

**Jack Calderon**, Protector of the Taurian Concordat

**Sarah Calderon**, second daughter of Jack Calderon

**Rachel Calderon-Davion**, Archduchess of Filtvet, illegitimate daughter of Ian Davion and Zarantha Calderon

**Ian Cameron**, First Lord of the Star League, Director-General of the Terran Hegemony

**Catherine Centrella**, younger daughter of Savitri Centrella

**Ehlana Centrella**, elder daughter of Savitri Centrella, titular Duchess of Andurien

**Savitri Centrella**, Magestrix of Canopus, Regent of Andurien

**Alexander Davion**, First Prince of the Federated Suns

**Henry Davion**, third son of Alexander Davion

**Ian Davion**, son of Vincent Davion

**Jerric Davion**, Duke of Argyle, husband of Charlotte Grimm-Davion

**Roger Davion**, second son of Alexander Davion

**Vincent Davion**, first son of Alexander Davion, Prince Imperial of the Federated Suns

**Robert Dinesen**, Duke of Coventry, husband of Viola Steiner-Dinesen

**Amos Forlough**, Commander of SLDF Task Force Outworlds

**Simon Gallagher**, Rachel Calderon-Davion's husband

**Henry Gram**, Speaker of the Estates General

**Hendrik Grimm-Davion**, son of Charlotte Grimm-Davion and Jerric Davion

**Charlotte Grimm-Davion**, Queen of the Oberon Confederation

**Selwin Kelswa II**, Grand Duke of Tamar

**Amalthia Kincaid**, SLDF General and later Commander of SLDF Task Force Canopus

**Hehiro Kurita**, Coordinator of the Draconis Combine

**Carlos Dangmar Lee**, Commanding General of the SLDF

**Aldo Lestrade**, Grand Duke of Skye

**Alistair Liao**, brother of Ursula Liao

**Ursula Liao**, Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation

**Ian Marik**, Captain-General of the Free Worlds League

**Shandra Noruff-Cameron**, wife of Ian Cameron, retired Commanding General of the SLDF

**Marcus O'Reilly**, Caesar of the Marian League

**Elias Pitcairn**, Colonel of the Second Davion Guards

**Tanya Sheppard**, concubine of Garick Stark, twin sister of Teresa Sheppard

**Teresa Sheppard**, concubine of Garick Stark, twin sister of Tanya Sheppard

**Garick Stark**, Lord of the Tortuga Dominion

**Lisa Steiner-Calderon**, wife of Jack Calderon and niece of Archon Katrina Steiner

**Kevin Steiner-Dinesen**, son of Viola Steiner-Dinesen and Robert Dinesen, later Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth

**Viola Steiner-Dinesen**, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth

**Charles Mainstein Wexworth**, Commander of SLDF Task Force Taurus

And now on with the story:

* * *

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**28 February 2577**

Normally the Star League Council would not have gathered until May for their biannual meeting. However, this was hardly a normal occasion and tensions between the entourages of the House Lords were sufficient that the Twenty-Second Royal Division had turned out in full combat gear to visibly deter violence between the various nobles.

Seated around a table in one of the great halls of the still under-construction Court of the Star League, the six most powerful men and women in the known universe stared at each other.

"Ian," the Director-General of the Terran Hegemony assured the most recent member of the Council, "I assure you that we'll do everything in our power to find out what has happened to your mother."

Somehow I don't think that that means you'll leave your nice safe palace here on Terra, Ian Marik thought. He might have been named in honour of Ian Cameron but he was far from being as fond of him as his grandfather had been. "I appreciate the sentiment, Lord Cameron, but I think that this is a problem larger than any one of us."

In the middle of the table a holographic display showed the star systems ruled by all ten of humanity's nations. A significant swathe around the rimward edge, stretching from Rohinjan in the Regulan Principality of the Free Worlds League, across the Capellan Confederation and the Taurian Concordat before trailing off at the edge of the Draconis March of the Federated Suns. The region was almost a thousand light years long.

"If anyone had the least idea how they might do it, I'd say it was a Taurian defense," Alexander Davion observed. "Look how closely it follows their border."

Ursula Liao shot the old man a disparaging look. "If that were the case, I'd expect your border to have been violated the way mine has been. Besides which, wouldn't the Outworlds Alliance be affected as well?"

"Ah but it has been."

All eyes went to Hehiro Kurita as the Coordinator tapped controls and the core worlds of the Outworlds Alliance were outlined in the same crimson. "Reports from the occupation forces on Santiago as well as ISF agents indicate that the border worlds of the Alliance have lost contact with the interior under the precise circumstances."

"Why didn't you tell us this?" demanded the Archon, sitting at the First Lord's right hand. Careful seating placed all five of the other council members so that they weren't next to their geographical neighbours: working around from Viola Steiner-Dinessen sat the Chancellor, the Coordinator, the Captain-General and then the First Prince, who sat to the left of Ian Cameron.

The accusing look from his peer didn't appear to phase Hehiro. "I am telling you," he replied calmly.

Ian Cameron raised his hands in a pacifying manner. "Does anyone else know of any other worlds affected?"

"Nothing is confirmed yet," Ian said, "But we haven't had time to get responses from some of our more remote worlds."

"And we can't tell how far this extends into the Periphery states." Cameron nodded in understanding. "To be honest, I think it's most likely that this is some as yet un-explained natural phenomenon. I can't imagine anything so vast being artificial – for one thing it seems to have all taken place at once."

"And what a Christmas gift it was."

"Thank you Alexander." The First Lord seemed unruffled. "And as your navy has established, there are certainly people on the other side still so the next step is to make contact with them."

Ian cleared his throat. "I've sent an expedition to Canopus. They're accredited as diplomats and not so heavily defended as to look threatening. With so much of VII Corps missing, further SLDF reinforcements would be appreciated." His pointed look towards Ursula made it clear where he wanted those reinforcements to come from.

"Do not be ridiculous," she protested. "You can see how badly my own borders are savaged by this event. Sian is only two jumps from these worlds and if retaliation for the aggression of the Federated Suns is made, my capital is an obvious target. V Corps presence is needed for our security."

"I am forced to agree." Cameron looked pained. "Rest assured that should any actual attacks be made on the Free Worlds League I will despatch V Corps and all other available reserves to your defense but at this time, it would not be prudent to relocate them. Since we will need to defer action on the Taurian front, perhaps one of General Wexworth's divisions can be spared in the meantime?"

"I don't think this is the right moment to reduce General Wexworth's forces." The First Prince shook his head. "Right now a large number of warships – virtually the entire Taurian fleet – has been located. The Federated Suns Navy is moving to pin them in place, providing a threat to Malagrotta that they will have to honour. This is the perfect moment for Wexworth to cross the border and secure key systems, crippling the Taurian threat along most of their border. There's a contingency for just this circumstance: Operation Carthage. I move that we activate that Operation and authorise the General to strike immediately."

"That's a bit rash."

"Perhaps." To everyone's surprise it was Hehiro who spoke in support of his rival. "But I believe that the First Prince may be right to see opportunity here. Likewise, the loss of contact with the core of the Alliance may allow General Forlough to move forward and cover half the distance to Alpheratz without facing co-ordinated resistance."

Ian didn't need to be a seer to realise the deal that was on the table. If Alexander backed Hehiro's plan then he could count on the Coordinator to vote for his own preferred operation.

"I'd prefer a more cautious approach..." he suggested.

Alexander waved off the objection. "Of course. No one is suggesting that any operations be started against the Canopians until you know what has happened to the rest of VII Corps. And a new commander will need to be named for them since you can hardly lead operations from Atreus. But I agree that General Forlough is faced by a great opportunity. I call for an immediate vote on the two operations."

"Shouldn't you at least declare war?" Ursula offered.

Hehiro shook his head firmly. "The Taurian occupation of Davion colonies in the Malagrotta system is a clear act of war on their part and our intervention in the Alliance is no more than a police action."

Ian voted against action when his turn came. Ursula Liao did likewise but they were the only ones. The young Capellan even looked sympathetic towards Ian's frustrations when he rose to leave the room.

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, High Orbit**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**3 March 2577 (2 March 3032 local calendar)**

"It doesn't look very much like home."

Normally looking out of a spacecraft's window doesn't show much but the starscape. Even from this high an orbit, however, the naked eye could pick out details of Canopus.

Canopus had been a garden world, a veritable paradise. But the world they saw now had a perpetual haze of pollution between them and the surface. Even the clouds seemed darker. Above the planet, cluttering the lower orbitals were hundreds of space stations. Factories, shipyards and more than a few sleek ovoids that traffic control had been firm about warning them off from approaching.

"I'm not surprised that it's changed." Margaid was making use of a connection that to the planetary data-net. "There's a sort of public library set up for free access. Well, more of an encyclopedia, I suppose. The entry for Canopus says the population is just short of eleven billion."

Mela blinked and turned away from the window. "Eleven _what_? That's worse than Terra!"

"About the same," Osami told her. "Captain, just how big is the Magistracy these days?"

Margaid ran a quick search of the directory for that information. "One hundred and fifteen planets in the Magistracy. Another sixty-four in the Duchy of Andurien, which is apparently 'in personal union', whatever that means. Any ideas?"

"It means it's a separate state with the same ruler, Captain."

"Politics!" The captain made a disgusted noise. "Ah, the current Duchess is a kid and the Magestrix is her Regent. Um. I bet some of them aren't too happy about that."

Sara shrugged. "Is that really our problem?"

"It is if we trade that way, which admittedly probably wouldn't be the wisest choice. It's a major trade route and we couldn't compete." Margaid sighed. "Oh, and we're apparently minor celebrities. Make sure your gladrags are clean because when we send down a shore party they can expect journalists to be asking questions."

"Any chance of taking advantage of our celebrity-status?" asked Sara thoughtfully. "Maybe get some passengers signed up."

"Not... actually such a bad idea," Margaid admitted. "I'll see what might be available."

There was a chirp from Mela's console and she turned to look at it. "Hold off on committing us to a job," she declared. "We just got a squirt transmission from the Magestrix Command Centre. MIM wants to interview us all again and then for us to stay over Canopus until the Magestrix gets back – they don't say where from – so _she_ can interview us." She looked up. "They are offering us a retainer though, compensation for loss of business."

"Is it any good?"

"You're the financial brain, captain. Is a million dollars a month good? I could do a lot of shopping on a million."

Margaid did some swift mental calculations – payroll, consumables, operating fees. "Lower your expectations to how much shopping you can do on your salary. Dividends on your share of the company aren't due until the end of the financial year in April."

"We're taking the deal?"

"Mela, we're under their guns. Of course we're taking the deal. But for that retainer, we'll take the deal and _smile_."

* * *

**SLDS **_**Hanover**_**, Zenith Jump Point**

**Bryceland, Outworlds Alliance**

**13 March 2577**

Everything had been going perfectly for the SLDF task force heading towards Bryceland.

For, oh, at least four hours after they jumped into the system.

That was the point at which nine warships jumped in at the same jump point that the transport flotilla carrying the Fourteenth Brigade had just left on their long, slow transit towards the system. The Outworlds Alliance didn't _have_ any warships. Everyone knew that.

Lieutenant General Kern Peleshenko saw the icon marking the SLS _Collingwood_, the corvette left to guard the jumpships, dull suddenly.

"Was it... is the _Collingwood_ gone?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Zarina Habachi, the naval lieutenant assigned as his liason to the ships that were responsible for the space side of operations, shook her head. "That means he's struck," she explained. "Surrendered, I mean. I don't think he'd have much choice."

Peleshenko swallowed his initial response, which was to be an angry denunciation. This wasn't like a planet – if a ship or fighter was crippled out here the crew couldn't just go to ground. "I see." What he saw was the jumpships that had brought his forces here surrendering in a rush now that their protector had given up the fight.

Instead he looked at the larger display, the one showing the entire system. "Unless I mistake this, our only real chance is to get to the planet, and hopefully have one of our escorts charge their drive enough to jump out from a pirate point and get help. Is that a viable course of action?"

Habachi looked at the plot. "It depends on how fast those ships are – or at least how willing they are to run down their fuel reserves chasing us."

"Do any better alternatives suggest themselves?" He made a mental note to get another liaison officer if the opportunity arose. Prying answers out Habachi was turning out to be more of a bonus than a benefit.

She looked at the tactical plot and he saw sweat on her face. "Given the number of fighters that they're launching I'm not sure that it will work, sir," she answered at last.

Peleshenko felt his face tighten. "Not quite an answer to my question, lieutenant. Please contact the Commodore for me so that I may consult him directly."

There were three more corvettes in the force. In theory, they and the brigade's aero-squadrons should have been enough to beat off any credible threat by Outworlds fighters. That clearly wasn't going to be the case now.

While Habachi was engaged in setting up the call he walked over to the intelligence section. "Do you have any interesting data for us to send out to Corps HQ?"

The Major heading up the section frowned. "Possibly. We're intercepting a certain amount of traffic between the ships and the surface and to be honest, Outworlder codes are pretty rudimentary."

He paused in thought for a moment and then nodded. "I'm fairly sure that Friexa didn't know they were coming. In fact, I'm not sure she has any idea who they are." Freixa, the planetary Chairman (an actual military rank in the Outworlds, Peleshenko had been amused to learn) of Bryceland and the adversary he'd been preparing to face in battle on the surface.

"That's quite a well kept secret if it's true." Peleshenko scratched his chin. "I'm not really involved in that business but I wouldn't have thought it would be feasible to hide warship construction."

"There are various shell games that can be played," the Major allowed judiciously. "But those generally involve masking what is being built at a shipyard. Hiding the existence of a shipyard – or more specifically the movement of supplies to a shipyard since the actual location can be quite easily obscured – is quite difficult. And all our sources agree that the Alliance simply does not have the capability to build that fleet. So either our sources are hopelessly ill-informed or the ships came from elsewhere."

"The Taurians?"

"Well they don't match anything we have them on record as building but it _is_ possible."

Peleshenko nodded sharply towards him. "Put together some files. We'll try to slip one of the corvettes to a pirate point so it can jump to Niles and warn General Forlough about this." He grinned slightly. "Look on the bright side, at this rate the Outworlders may kill us before Angry Amos gets his paws on you."

"That's very reassuring sir. I look forward to it."

The general laughed, a short bitter bark of laughter at the gallows humour and then turned to check on Habachi's progress. It was going to be a long week, if they survived it. Possibly less than a week if the convoy poured on the thrust. Normally that would be a waste of fuel but the fact of the matter was, with that flotilla on their tail, the only concern was getting to Bryceland's surface. After that, the dropships wouldn't need any fuel.

* * *

**Everstone River**

**Niles, Outworlds Alliance**

**21 March 2577**

General Amos Forlough's _Mackie_ was making best speed towards the action. Of course the sheer mass of the large assault 'Mech reduced that to a mere fifty kilometres per hour, but no one really wanted to see that weight of metal coming towards them.

In deference to the possibility of an ambush, the hard-charging general was not at the head of his bodyguard lance. A _Banshee_ and a _Victor_ were ranging ahead, picking the fastest route for him and acting as a tripwire for any Outworlders who proved bolder than wide. A second _Mackie_ was covering the rear.

"Recon elements are falling back towards the river," reported. "They report large numbers of hostile BattleMechs are pursuing them. Estimated forty hostile, four-zero."

Forlough's initial response was an obscenity, although to preserve communications discipline he didn't have his microphone active while he cursed. The recon elements – a mixed battalion from his leading brigade – had only twelve _Kyudo_ battlemechs to support the hovercraft and infantry that were supposed to be clearing him a bridgehead on the other side of the ford. At three to one odds even armed AgroMechs might pose a threat.

"Get that commander on the line and tell him to keep those 'Mechs away from the ford," he ordered. "If we have room to get out of the water then we can handle whatever crap they have chasing him. If we don't have that room then he's going to be fighting them on his own."

There was a pause and Forlough's _Mackie_ crashed through a high wooden fence separating two pastures. The land on this side of the Everstone river was mostly used for farming but one of Niles' larger cities was located across the river. There was already a gap in the fence where the _Banshee_ had gone through it and the _Victor_ had jumped over it, but Forlough had more important things to worry about than damage to some farmer's property.

"General." The comm-tech, seated in a command van, several kilometres to the rear, sounded concerned. "The recon commander confirms receipt of his orders. He reports that the contact is confirmed as heavy BattleMechs, including several Hegemony designs."

"Sonofa_bitch_!" Forlough didn't bother to avoid swearing on an open channel this time. "Get the artillery spotters up here and make sure air support is in the sky. We may have to take the ford by assault."

Contrary to Forlough's worst case scenario, there was no sign of enemy units at the ford. Of course, there were no friendly units either, other than the Mechs following him. Just a handful of forward artillery guides digging in and the distant trail of aerospace fighters in the sky.

Flicking his eyes across the compressed display that showed him a 360-degree view of his surroundings, Fulough estimated it would take another five minutes for enough of the brigade up. Two battalions, both heavy in Mechs, would give him a slight numerical edge in that arm and two dozen tanks to provide supporting fire would help, even if the river was too deep for them to cross.

He took a moment to mentally curse out the (now-relieved) first commander of the leading regiment, whose recon forces had been too slow to keep the defenders from destroying the heavy bridges upriver. With those in hand, Forlough could have brought his full force across easily.

"Sir." It was a different comm-tech on the line now. It took Forlough a second to recognise her as the one back at the Corps HQ, still located in the Landing Zone, rather than the brigade command van. "We're receiving a signal from orbit."

"Is it urgent?"

She paused. "I believe it's important, general. It's from the _Hawke_."

"The _Hawke_ ought to be in the Bryceland system," he growled and glanced around. Still secure enough. "Put them through."

There was a crackle of static and: "Major Subhendu, you're through to the Corps Commander."

"Report, Major."

The woman on the other end of the radio channel obeyed. "General Forlough, I've just arrived from a pirate point over Bryceland. So far as I'm aware, my ship is the last surviving vessel of the flotilla assigned to General Peleshenko. We were engaged by warships claiming allegiance to the Outworlds Alliance shortly after departing the Zenith jump point and had to fight our way to orbit. The general ordered all surviving corvettes to jump here after covering the orbital drop of the brigade's 'Mechs and jump infantry. He requests the dispatch of a relief force."

Forlough worked his jaw for a moment. "What the fucking _hell_ are the Outies doing with warships!" he snarled. "God-DAMN those idiots in Central Intelligence. They couldn't find water in a bathtub! And SLDF Intel couldn't do that if they were _sitting_ in it!"

He took a deep breath. "Major, forward your full report to my staff and then place yourself and the _Hawke_ under the command of Commodore Bernard and give him the full report as well. We've got a situation of our own down here, but I'll be debriefing you _personally_ once it's straightened out."

Cutting the channel, Forlough looked around again. On the plus-side he could see that not only were both battalions now massing up for the assault, but that two lances of hover tanks were also moving up in support.

The columns of smoke now rising from across the river were distinct negatives though. He punched the command for a local broadcast, the Dalban Comline automatically using microwave transmissions to contact every SLDF vehicle in line of sight of him. "This is Forlough. We're anticipating BattleMech resistance across the river. All 'Mechs and hovercraft will advance to contact under cover of smoke. All tanks are to provide supporting fire. The order of advance is G company, H company, all three command lances, then A and C companies. Hovercraft will secure the flanks."

Looking down at the artillery observers he changed channels while the heavy _Ostroc_ and _Warhammer_ BattleMechs of Third Battalion moved up to take the lead in the advance. "Lay smoke immediately," he ordered.

"Acknowledged, sir," he heard in reply. "All batteries loading for smoke. Time on target is one-twenty from mark." A second later, the observer marked time and a counter began to spool down from two minutes.

Across the river, the leading elements of the Outworlds 'Mechs were coming into view. Their machines were a rusty-red colour, trimmed in black. The warbook struggled to identify most of them – a _Warhammer_ was confirmed, and a _Rifleman_ – but most did not match anything in its records. The initial report had been right though: they were heavy 'Mechs. One, its almost spherical head marked up like a skull, was a near match in tonnage for Forlough's own Mackie.

A mismatched group, he concluded. Only two, egg-nosed torsos on powerful legs, seemed to be of the same design and one elephantine 'Mech even had four legs like those ridiculous _Xanthos_ that the Crappies had tried to sell to the SLDF. At a guess the Alliance's Battlemech programme was more advanced than reported and they'd batched up their prototypes into a single force.

A whistle of incoming artillery preceded the first smoke rounds landing in the pasture across the ford and G Company splashed into the water, which foamed around the legs of their Ostrocs. They were half-way across the ford, perhaps a hundred metres from both shores when H Company followed them. Hovercraft were just slashing across the water up and down-stream when explosions rocked the Everstone.

A colossal fountain of water erupted not far from one of the hovercraft and Forlough cursed as the water settled to show the fast moving vehicle was now sinking slowly beneath the water. It seemed the Outworlds had their own artillery. Smoke was drifting back across the river, masking his view of the battlefield but the way it lit up as particle cannon blasted away with faux-lightning told him everything he needed to know.

There was a fight going on over there.

"Follow me!" he roared and marched his Mackie into the water, turning the torso from side to side as he searched through the smoke for a target. Other Mechs followed - water literally boiling away as _Griffin_s and _Shadow Hawk_s from First Battalion used jump-jets to get a head-start across the river. He almost fired into one _Griffin_ that had bounded heedlessly into his path before recognising it as a friendly unit.

More fountains of water sprang up, further reducing visibility and the distinctive sound of ammunition bins chain-detonating told him that someone, somewhere had just had an even worse day than he was having. Their last day, possibly. He just hoped it was one of the bastard Outworlders.

Back on dry ground, Forlough felt rather than heard an artillery shell hitting the shore just behind him. The explosion rocked even the hundred ton _Mackie_ but inflicted no more than cosmetic damage. Shaking off any concern about the near miss, he sent the giant striding up the pasture towards the biggest concentration of metal his MAD could pick up.

Forlough estimated he'd managed about half the distance when much smaller 'Mech charged out of the smoke, apparently trying to move around him. It didn't take him more than a moment to recognise the machine as a _Commando_, a Lyran design that was not represented among his forces. The response was obvious: Forlough brought his crosshairs around to chase the faster 'Mech and triggered both lasers and the autocannon.

The lasers hit their target, slashing two furrows along the chest of the _Commando_, underlining the black wolf's head badge it wore. Unfortunately the autocannon didn't track quite so quickly and the stream of shells, potent enough to certainly breach the light 'Mechs' armour if they connected, slashed off into the distance.

The _Commando_ returned fire, impudently showering the much larger BattleMech with short range missiles, but the mechwarrior must have thought better than to engage a target four times his size and vanished into the smoke.

Forlough considered attempting to chase it down before dismissing the idea as nonsense. The _Commando_ was vastly faster than he was. Instead he resumed his march forwards, opening a channel to C Company's commander. "There's a enemy COM-2D heading back your way," he warned bluntly before cutting off the channel and putting the brief exchange of fire from his mind.

That decision was a fortunate one for almost immediately another 'Mech reared up out of the smoke, somewhat higher up the slope.

It was the deathshead 'BattleMech from before, armour scarred in places, adding to the smoke with a volley of long range missiles that hammered down upon Forlough at such a short range that the warheads could barely have had time to arm.

Of course, 'barely enough' wasn't quite the same as 'not enough'. Explosions wreathed the head and shoulders of the _Mackie_ as almost a dozen missiles hit home, one of them spiking dead-centre over the cockpit.

Angrily Forlough snapped his crosshairs up across the barrel chest of his new target and closed his fingers around the triggers of both PPCs, feeling sweat pour off him as the temperature soared inside the cockpit. Then, for good measure, he fired the autocannon.

All three shots scored perfectly, dead centre. A smaller 'Mech would easily have been gutted by such precise marksmanship. Even earlier models of his own Mackie would – at best – have had a potentially deadly breach of their frontal armour.

This 'Mech, however, although clearly shaken, stood undaunted and returned fire with equal fury. Forlough fought to keep the _Mackie_ upright as the armour-piercing shells of a cannon as powerful as his own, flayed two-thirds of the protection off his right flank, followed by stabbing lasers from both arms and a volley of almost twenty short-range missiles.

To his astonishment, Forlough's infrared sensors told him that the other Mech wasn't even experiencing more than the slightest of rises in temperature.

His surprise cost him: the other mechwarrior got his own second volley off a hair faster than the SLDF General: two lasers punching deep into the now open side of the _Mackie_ and another swarm of missiles that hammered almost every section of the 'Mech.

Forlough had the barest glimpse of his own cannon-fire ripping into one of the other 'Mech's shoulder before safety systems blasted away the canopy and he was hurled out of the cockpit by the rockets of his ejection-seat.

Then he heard again the sound of a 'Mech being torn apart by the sympathetic detonations of its own ammunition bins, in this case those of his own autocannon.

The shockwave blasted him to unconsciousness before the canopy of ejection seat's parachute could fully unfurl.

* * *

**Crystal Palace, Crimson**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**25 March 2577 (24 March 3032 local calendar)**

Brion Marik thought he might be in shock as the helicopter conveyed him towards the capital of the Canopus.

The fact that he was being taken to what his memory told him wasn't even the correct city barely even registered. While Crimson housed the majority of government bodies, his previous visit had been to the ceremonial capital of Delphi and the Magestrix' palace there.

The weather was wet and unpleasantly humid, although he might have put that down to the season rather than the planet itself. Below him, the streets of the city were marked by colourful umbrellas and shopping districts could be picked out from the awnings that stretched out from shop-fronts to cover the pavement in front of them.

The young Marik barely noticed the colours, or the glass and steel palace ahead of him. His mind was still focused on what he'd seen as the dropship descended through the low orbitals and towards the spaceport.

It could only have been deliberate that their course had been set to go past a military shipyard that he could have sword was not there when he visited in 2574. A shipyard with its construction slips very plainly in the process of assembling two dozen cruiser or frigate-sized ships. The military threat of such a force was for one of his aides to estimate, but the financial investment was something that Brion – familiar with the naval budget of the Free Worlds League – was concerned about. The ships in that yard represented at least sixty billion Eagles of investment, which was rather more than his previous best guess at what Canopus could afford. And if the yards were new, which seemed likely? At least half again as much as his previous investment.

Showing them off to him wasn't just pride. It was a threat: Canopus had more resources than had been guessed at.

Thunder rattled the sky as the helicopter settled down onto one of a clover-leaf of landing pads tucked behind the Crystal Palace. No sooner had the rotor come to a stop than the entire pad began to sink smoothly into hill below, obviously being brought to a hanger beneath the palace.

The resulting hanger was far too clean to be a working hanger – Brion glanced back out of the window and spotted a sliding door that probably led to the actual maintenance and repair bays – but it did sport a rotating doorway such as those used by hotels and two functionaries were unrolling a red carpet from the doorway to the hatch of the VTOL.

"The literal red carpet treatment," mused Elise. "It's rather fun to be royalty."

Brion looked over at his wife and wished private that she'd been willing to go back to Atreus with his father or stay on Cole Harbour. Anywhere, in fact, other than joining him on this mission. If the Marik clan had been any smaller then he could have laid responsibility for their children onto her, but honestly they both knew that the family would care for them if the worst came to worst.

Instead of commenting, he stood and then offered his arm. "Shall we go?"

She smiled and accepted his arm.

Outside the VTOL hatch a handful of soldiers in dark blue uniforms had formed up as an honour guard. Brion paused at the hatch as they came to attention. The officer at their head bowed sharply at the waist rather than saluting. "Duke Marik, Duchess Marik. Quarters have been arranged for you at the Free Worlds League embassy once you have presented your credentials, but the Magestrix was hoping you would be willing to speak to her immediately."

Brion nodded automatically. "Of course." Was this good, or bad?"

He expected to be led to an elevator up into the surface portions of the building but instead the officer led them down a gently descending passageway – wide and lined with potted bushes. There was a conveyor built into the floor and the man led them onto it, turning to speak to them as the moving floor carried them down into the depths. There were doors every few metres, each with discreet brass name panels.

"There aren't any dungeons down here," their guide promised. "The Magestrix simply felt it would be a discreet place to meet without too much public attention."

There certainly wasn't a great deal of attention being paid to the three of them, although they passed several men and women either walking to either side of the conveyor or riding it in the other direction. A few wore uniform but most wore business dress, albeit in subtly different styles from those Brion had seen in the Inner Sphere.

A moment later they were ushered off the conveyer and down a short side corridor into a warmly furnished antechamber. "The Magestrix will be here in a moment," the man promised, before closing the double doors behind them.

Brion automatically looked at the other doors, which were almost identical and then looked at Elise when she released his arm and walked to examine the fireplace that occupied one of the long sides to the room. The other had a comfortable looking couch.

"It's a bit risqué," observed Elise of the carved decoration around the fireplace, most of which were representing the nude human form and appeared almost but not quite grecian.

"In my experience, the Canopians can be quite liberal," he told her. "And their entertainment industry is quite successful."

There was a small click and the door into the inner chamber opened. The woman standing there was evidently not Crystalla Centrella, but at the same time she was certainly someone of importance. A golden tiara held thick black hair from blue eyes and a dusky complexion. Although Brion would have guessed she was around his own age she stood no higher than his chin. Then again, neither had his great-grandfather Albert. The knee-length plaid skirt and white blouse gave her a school-girl air but she wore a crimson mantle over it.

"Welcome to Canopus, your grace," she said, looking at him before turning to Elise. "And greetings to you, Duchess Marik. Please join me."

The room behind had several chairs around the walls but the dominating furniture was an ornate desk with two well-stuffed armchairs in front of it. The woman waved them towards the armchairs and moved to sit behind the desk. "Normally, of course, you would present your credentials to my foreign minister, but I would prefer to keep this informal." She settled herself and Brion guessed that the chair was slightly elevated to make up for her lack of height. "I imagine that you were expecting Crystalla but I, Savitri Centrella, am now Magestrix."

"You would be correct in your assumption," Brion admitted, mind racing. "It seems that there have been a great many sudden changes of late."

"More than you may realise." Savitri shrugged slightly. "Let us first deal with your accreditation."

"Of course." Brion produced the slim document case and placed it upon the desk in front of his hostess.

She opened it and read the contents swiftly. One eyebrow arched. "Irony is alive and well it seems."

"I beg your pardon?" Elise asked.

"Ah." Savitri appeared embarrassed. "Merely thinking out loud. Duke Marik I acknowledge your accreditation to my court as Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary on behalf of the Free Worlds League." She returned the paperwork. "Since this is issued in the name of Captain-General Ian Marik, would I be correct in assuming that your grandmother was somewhere along our mutual border during the Christmas festivities?"

"On Kanata."

"Ah. And no doubt you are concerned for her wellbeing and whereabouts." The Magestrix gave them both a rueful look. "I can only guess, I am afraid. However, I do have a reasonable idea of what happened that Christmas Night, if not why."

Brion sat back in the chair. "And what did happen?"

"A region of space was moved backwards or forwards precisely four hundred and fifty-five calendar years."

The two Mariks blinked at her.

"Ludicrous isn't it?" she admitted. "I can't even tell you if it was the Star League being moved forward in time or the Periphery being sent back in time, although I am leaning towards the latter, as it is our political boundaries that seem to be being used as guidelines."

"Is this... are you joking? How could that possibly happen?"

"If it's a joke, then it's on us." Savitri smiled. "I can only assume, since political boundaries were respected and the transition has left our calendars almost perfectly aligned – it was perfect up until the end of February since this is a leap year for us – that this is something done deliberately and with great precision. But I cannot claim responsibility for it happening. It might as well have been an act of God."

Elise frowned. "Are you suggesting that the reason that the stars are not quite where they used to be is because they weren't transported to the correct locations?"

"That's one possibility," Savitri agreed. "However comparing our star charts suggests that it's actually perfectly ordinary stellar drift. Your charts don't account for centuries of the stars moving and ours anticipate it as having taken place – which of course means that we're both missing our targets when we cross the boundaries between... uptime and downtime shall we say?" She shrugged. "Your own astronomers can probably work out the maths and it should let you find us. More's the pity."

There was a silence.

"You mean the Star League."

"Precisely." There was no smile on Savitri's face. "I am fully familiar with the fatuous pomposity of the Pollux Proclaimation. So let me make this perfectly clear: the Star League's right to pontificate ends at its borders. You are not facing the periphery states of the twenty-sixth century any more. You are facing nations that are older, richer and more powerful than you. And on this, if nothing else, we stand united."

She rested one small fist on the desk between them. "In 3025, the heads of House Kurita, House Davion, House Steiner and House Marik offered formal apologies to the Periphery for their acquiescence with the Star League's abuses, a list that starts with the Pollux Proclaimation and goes on for two hundred years. My people know _exactly_ where the victory of the Star League leads and we will _not_ subject ourselves to centuries as a conquered, exploited province of Terra."

"How can you claim to be older?" protested Elise. "Canopus was colonised by, well, by deserters from the Free Worlds League Military!"

"Yes, but from our perspective the colonisation of Canopus was just over five hundred years ago. It's less than two years since we celebrated our fifth centennial. When was Marik colonised? Four hundred and twenty years ago?" Savitri's smile was a trifle smug.

Brion stood. "You've quite a bombshell on me, Magestrix and I'm rather tired from the journey. Perhaps we could continue this conversation another time?"

"Perhaps that might be best," Savitri agreed. "But first, in answer to the original question that we seem to have drifted away from, I can think of three possible answers to the question of where Marion Marik might be."

"If it is the Star League that was moved, then she is precisely where she was previously: in the twenty-sixth century. Presumably wondering where you have all gone to. Or if it is we who were moved, she is either back where we came from in the thirty-first century... or she was destroyed in the instant of our arrival."

It wasn't until he entered the banqueting hall of the Embassy that Brion realised that the almost excessive deference he was being shown was _historical reverence_.

"I was... would be Captain-General?" he asked, looking at the oil portrait that was almost what he saw in the mirror each morning.

The ambassador, a woman named Jacquelynn Ortega, nodded her head. "You were elected after your grandmother's death in 2698, sir."

"My grandmother is currently missing. My father is provisionally acting as Captain-General." He glanced around. "I suppose there's room for one more portrait somewhere."

There was a gasp from Elise and Brion saw her staring at the next portrait along. His own jaw fell. "Rhean?" he asked, and then checked the dates. "Only three years in office? Did she stand down?"

Ortega winced.

"She'd only be forty-eight!" Elise protested, looking at the dates below the portrait.

"I'm afraid it was... will be cancer," the ambassador explained. She glanced along the line of portraits. "Actually I believe three of your children and three grandchildren all served at one time or another in the next century although Rhean Marik was the only one to die in office. And medical science has come a long way..."

"We'll take it under advisement," Brion told her dryly, concious of his wife's death-grip upon his arm. "We do have thirty years or so to take her to see a doctor."

He ushered Elise to a chair. "Much as I'm almost afraid to hear about it, I think we need to know about the history that we've missed out on. Perhaps nothing so personal though, if you please."

Ortega took a seat opposite them. "I'm not sure how much you know already, so... I was appointed by the fiftieth Captain-General, Kristen Marik, following the War of Andurien Secession. I served during the Capellan Crisis the following year, which was seven years ago. Since then relations have been fairly warm – pragmatically, the League and the Magistracy are close trading partners and have mutual interests in blocking the further expansion of the Federated Commonwealth."

"Alright, that suggests a few questions. I gather from the Magestrix that the Star League is no longer a concern?"

"Ah, no. The Star League dissolved in 2780, although the Succession Wars, which lasted until 3020 were notionally over the throne of the First Star Lord."

"And this Capellan Crisis? What was the outcome there?"

Ortega pursed her lips. "Essentially? The Treaty of Sian formalised the dissolution of the Confederation with territorial concessions to the Free Worlds League, Federated Suns, Taurian Concordat and Duchy of Andurien. The assembled House Lords also agreed to form several international bodies, headquartered on the moons of Sian to act as a moderating force on international politics. Oh, and the Ares Conventions were formally re-instated."

"That sounds fairly drastic, I take it that House Liao was... not a factor in this conference."

"No sir. The last Chancellor was a Liao by marriage alone and frankly, it was her... actions that spurred a coalition to form against the Confederation. The last Liao of the principal lineage was her step-daughter Candace Liao-Hasek, who was assassinated two years following, along with her husband the Duke of New Syrtis, who was then the Heir Presumptive to the Federated Suns."

"I see, I think. And what led to the Andurien Secession?"

"A rather complicated matter, sir." Ortega looked uncomfortable. "I would have to say that relations with House Humphreys had been poor for some time and the Captain-General at the time was pursuing some contentious financial policies. There was considerable rumbling, but the actual trigger was the invasion of the Marian League. Ah, you wouldn't have heard of them – a Periphery realm founded in the early thirtieth century. I believe Duggan Marik wanted a short victorious war to extend the Free Worlds League and bolster his support..."

"I take it things didn't go well."

The ambassador looked pained. "He appointed his brother Thomas, whose background was... well, that's rather complicated. He was an academic and Duggan appointed him as commander of the invasion. Putting it mildly..."

"A disaster?"

She nodded. "The invasion had been compromised, badly, and they walked into a trap. Thomas Marik was killed in a duel against Caesar Marcus O'Reilly and his regiments were crushed by a huge force of mercenaries. Almost fifteen percent of the FWLM was wiped out in four days. Provinces were pulling out even before the news arrived and the MAgistracy of Canopus moved in to prop up Andurien and the Canopian March, the latter of which voted to be annexed almost immediately."

"It was pre-planned of course. It had been Canopian agents who uncovered plans to invade the Marians and they'd already been negotiating secretly with Duchess Humphreys. And while Duggan was subduing the other breakaway provinces they sent a task force stampeding through the central League, raiding as far away as Keystone."

"Keystone is the other side of Atreus," Brion protested.

"Yes, it is. Parliament was in a panic, when Duggan Marik keeled over dead, our current Captain-General was elected with a mandate on any even half-way acceptable terms."

"What you're saying is that the Canopians were powerful enough to be considered rivals."

"Very nearly." Ortega spread her hands apologetically. "Even after the Capellan settlement, the League is still the smallest of the four remaining Successor States and it's a toss-up between the Taurians and Canopus-Andurien as to which is the strongest state outside the Inner Sphere. We _could_ beat either one of them if it came to war, but not without leaving ourselves vulnerable to the Lyrans or the Suns."

"We think the collapse of ComStar in the 3020s when the Toyamaists fled the Inner Sphere neutralised a lot of their previous advantages when it came to information-gathering but their spies are still considered a cut above average."

"Excuse me," Brion interjected, "But I don't follow. Who were ComStar?"

"Ah, the remains of the Star League's Ministry of Communications." Ortega shrugged. "They went through a political schism in the early 3020s when a faction felt it was time to share the technological data they had hoarded until the Succession Wars were over. The faction that preferred to continue hoarding, the Toyama faction, won the resultant war for control of ComStar and refugees from the losers played a valuable role in our own rebuilding. Somehow the Magestrix managed to turn several key Toyamaist managers and covertly usurp control of large sections of ComStar. It was possibly the greatest intelligence coup in history."

"So she controlled their courier ships?"

Ortega shook her head. "I'm sorry sir, there is so much to tell... ComStar operated a network of hyper-pulse generators, essentially allowing real-time communication across short interstellar distances. They had an effective monopoly on internal and external communication by the Successor States."

"And the Canopians - all the Periphery states – still have them?"

She nodded.

Brion's face was almost bloodless. "Ambassador, do you think the Canopians will let you leave?"

"Um... I believe they would respect my diplomatic status, yes."

"You need to talk to my father. And probably the entire Star League Council. Right away."

"It will take weeks, months even, to reach Atreus."

"I know, dammit!"

* * *

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**26 March 2577**

The guards around the ancestral home of House Davion were no longer entirely drawn from the Davion Brigade of Guards. An entire brigade of the Star League Defense Force, drawn from the Twenty-Fourth Division, part of the elite Star Guard Corps, had the responsibility for protecting the Federated Suns representative to the Star League Council, the First Prince. That tussle for dominance had required almost as much diplomacy from their titular master as negotiations with the rest of the Star League did.

A knock on the door roused Alexander Davion from his thoughts. He jerked suddenly, realising that he had been lost in thought for quite some time. He was in his seventies now, barely. He hated to think that he might not be quite as sharp mentally as he had always been.

He picked up the documents in front of him and turned the face down before calling: "Come in."

The door opened to reveal his third son Henry, currently serving with the foreign ministry. "Father, we've had an interesting communication. From Filtvet, apparently."

Alexander frowned and then his eyes widened. That was one of the worlds along the periphery border of his realm, among those that had dropped out of contact three months ago. He opened the folder in front of him and shuffled his current paperwork back into it. "What do they have to say?" he asked, setting the folder aside.

Henry grimaced. "It's... strange. I don't think it's good news." He opened his own folder and laid the typescript on the desk.

The First Prince picked it up and scanned it quickly. Then stopped and started to read more carefully.

"Time travel," he exclaimed, reaching the end and looking up at last. "Unbelievable. Would this explain the trouble we've had reaching them?"

"I don't know." His son shrugged. "We're going to have to run this my some astronomers and navigators, but if it works..."

"It would certainly support that assertion." Alexander nodded. "The University of Savonburg is probably best placed to put it to the test." He scratched a note to himself. "Lawrence is probably the best person to take place of this."

Then he looked at the rest of the message. "And that's the least explosive part of this message. I won't have another civil war, Henry. If this Rachel Calderon – Calderon-Davion-Gallagher? Good lord... But regardless, she's not going to break off from the Suns. I don't care how far in the future she comes from. That simply cannot be allowed."

"We're already looking at war with the Taurians. And lord alone knows... Father?"

"If our border worlds are from the future, what if the Taurians are as well?" Alexander's face was pale. He grabbed an intercom and spoke into it. "Jeffrey, how fast can we get a message sent out to the SLDF and FSN command centres on the Taurian front? ... Dammit. This is an emergency. I'll have a message for you in the next fifteen minutes. I'm authorising the commandeering of civilian shipping to get the word out."

He closed the intercom. "A four hundred year technological advantage. It would be like the armies of the First Families War trying to hold off Rostov's Terran brigade."

Henry swore. "That bad?"

"I've no idea. But all our intelligence sources could be badly wrong. Every assumption needs to be checked out."

"And if this is just a bluff?" Henry shrugged. "Some means of slowing us down before we roll over them?"

"Then we'll find out soon enough." Alexander gestured towards one wall. "I can't put any brakes on the DCMS and II Corps heading into the Outworlds Alliance. Let them take the risks."

His son nodded reluctantly. "We should warn them though. Even if it's too late."

"You're right. Forlough has so much steam built up we won't slow him whatever we do. Draft a note for him Henry. I'll write one for General Wexworth and Admiral Vincent." He looked down at the note again. "And then we'll need to figure out what to do with this Rachel Davion. We have to talk her around." He looked up at his son, remembering when he was that age. "We have to."

* * *

**Niles City, Niles**

**SLDF OZ, Outworlds Alliance**

**28 March 2577**

Amos Forlough had come to Niles as a conqueror. From his tread as he walked into the relatively humble government building, no one could have told that under his uniform tunic bandages still wrapped around his ribs and one shoulder. Any stiffness was easily ascribed to military posture.

And any pain was just weakness leaving the body.

But while his physical condition might be disguised, there was no doubt that his emotional state was wrathful. The campaign had taken more than a week to complete. The main force of II Corps had been faced with what should have been a cakewalk. According to the intelligence agencies, the only defenders should have been no more than local militia. The only reason he'd brought seven entire brigades here had been to use it as a staging area for the next wave.

Except...

He ground his teeth.

One regiment. One _Damned_ regiment of 'Mechs had been on planet. Outnumbered beyond belief and still they had run rings around his crack forces.

Not enough to stop him, of course. But enough to sting his pride. Enough to bleed his divisions. The ambush at Everstone River had been only the first shock that the 'Wolfshead' regiment – no one, not even the local yokels, seemed to know their actual name – had inflicted.

A raid here, a brief but bloody defense there. They fought like ghosts, fading into the backdrop and then lunging out to savage isolated forces. For a man who had cultivated a repuation for implacability, it was not to be endured.

And now? They escaped.

He'd wrapped the planet in a total blockade. Wherever they were going, the corvettes and destroyers at his disposal should have stopped them from leaving.

Should have.

Except that somehow they had all the right codes and authorisations to get past the initial queries, something that heads would roll over. And they'd rode that advantage to build up just enough of a lead to reach a pirate point where a pair of jumpships had been waiting to take them out of his reach.

Forlough didn't wait for the door to be opened for him. One hand caught the handle before the sentry could and his boot, a good honest mechwarrior boot, kicked it the rest of the way open.

Inside the doors, a cluster of government officials were waiting for him. The entry hall was lined with buolic artwork, the flag of the Outworlds Alliance still on the wall at the far end. That affront was enough to slow, if not stop, the General. "Take that rag down," he demanded harshly, not caring if the unfortunate man he was eyeing was a janitor or a minister of state.

The suit and the ineptness at unfastening the flag suggested the latter, but Forlough had already moved, climbing the stairs to the governor's office, which overlooked the gardens to the rear. Behind him the officials stared at each other, wondering if they should follow him or continue to wait. The platoon of military police arriving to take them into custody answered that question.

Upstairs, Forlough displaced the Governor from his seat and now glared at him across the desk. "Niles is now under martial law," he declared. "How long that lasts depends on how co-operative your people are."

"If I understand your meaning, then martial law deprives me of any authority to obtain that co-operation," the man told him quietly. "However with our militia defeated, we have no means to resist you."

"Do you take me for a fool?"

"We both know that it isn't that simple." Forlough eyed the man. Not a fighter, he concluded. "Martial law can take many flavours. Your assistance can make this occupation a great deal easier for the people of Niles. Your interference can make it a great deal harder."

"What do you want of me?"

The general smiled coldly. "Tell me about these 'Wolfshead' BattleMechs that fought against my forces."

"I know very little, although they refer to themselves as the Wolf Dragoons. They arrived perhaps a week before your fleet entered the system under the leadership of a man named Colonel Wolf. At first we thought they were part of the SLDF but Colonel Wolf stated that they had been sent from Alpheratz to defend us."

The governor drew himself up slightly. "I am not a military person. I placed them in contact with the Chairman of our militia and allowed them to act as they saw fit, since I had no means to prevent them from doing so."

"Well your defenders ran off-planet forty-eight hours ago," Forlough told him. "No doubt your Chairman can tell us more about them. Now, you are going to record a public announcement welcoming the SLDF to Niles and supporting our efforts to restore order."

"There was no disorder here until you arrived," the man protested.

"When I want your opinion, Outworlder, I will tell you what it is. Will you obey my orders or shall I place you in a cell and ask the same of your deputy?"

* * *

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Rim Worlds Republic**

**3 April 2577**

Katherine Dormax found this arrival just as nerve-wracking as that on Oberon VI. Then she had been faced with the judgement of an unknown ruler. Now she was facing a known but still menacing prospect: the judgement of her peers.

Of course now she was backed by two regiments of the Oberon Guards and the promise that two others were being committed to her cause. That was no assurance of political success, but it left reasonable hope of at least physical security.

"Colonel, you were sent to restore the authority of the Provisional Government in the coreward worlds and to locate the Second and Fifth Legionnaires." John bin Bilal wasn't the notional leader of the government, but he was one of the loudest voices.

Katherine stared him squarely in the eye. "The Legionnaires are gone. What I brought us back was a prospect of an ally against the Star League." She raised her voice, looking around the modest council chamber. "The Oberon Confederation has offered a mutual defence treaty, with options on trade and technology. I have provisionally accepted."

"You've exceeded your authority!"

"Not yet, I haven't." She looked around. "I made one concession, in exchange for which they've agreed to smash the Fourth Dragoons and the Republican Guards, leaving us in full control of Apollo. If, at that point, the treaty is not endorsed, then I have the word of their Queen that they will leave us to face the SLDF alone."

It probably would not be prudent, she decided, to let them know about the strikes being launched at Steelton and Persistance, where the remaining battalions of the Fifth Amaris Fusiliers still held out.

"What concession?" bin Bilal's face had reddened.

Katherine smiled sweetly. "Amaris. As we speak, elements of the Oberon Guards are landing around his remaining stronghold. Gregory Amaris and his entire family are theirs to do with as they wish." She had to fight not to laugh at bin Bilal's face. He'd favoured a hardline approach regarding the deposed First Consul from the beginning. Now he was getting it, but not in the way that he had wanted. "Wouldn't you say we'd be well rid of them?"

"Perhaps you're right," he agreed stiffly. "But can you be sure they will leave?"

"If worst comes to worse, we'd have two hostile regiments on Apollo. We seem to have managed that for the last two years."


	4. Book One, Chapter Three

Author's Note

The Periphery made at least one very impressive contribution to the human in the 3020s (at least in this history). Until 3024 the life expectancy of the nobility and the upper middle class (excepting those with dangerous military careers) of the Inner Sphere was somewhat in excess of a century.

In July 3024 the University of Canopus, one of _the_ premiere medical schools of the human race, developed a treatment that could drastically slow the aging process if applied before the mid-twenties. Prolong, as it was dubbed, was terrifically expensive but proved irresistable to the nobility and - as costs were reduced - to the upper middle class. Life expectancy for recipients is estimated to be anything from the low side of two centuries to well over three hundred.

Clinics offering the treatment - and the later technique developed by the rival University of Luxen to actually regress the age of the elderly - sprang up across the Inner Sphere and money proceeded to flood into Canopian coffers since the Magestrix exploited the monopoly with ruthless capitalism. It's estimated that before the Periphery states were mysteriously moved back in time from 3031 to 2576 Canopian tax revenue rivalled that of some of the Successor States. This money was spent to finance an economic boom not only within the Magistracy but by extension within their trading partners.

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, Trznadel Cluster**

**Luxen District, Magistracy of Canopus**

**4 April 2577 (5 April 3032 local calendar)**

"Welcome to the home of the Canopian Navy Royal," Emily Alexander told Margaid Chon as she sat on the 'visitor's chair' in the bridge of the _Ivy_.

Margaid gave her a surprised look. "Not Canopus?"

The CNR ComCapt (who looked far more like a holo-actress portraying a naval officer than the genuine article) laughed lightly. "Oh heavens no. Canopus is just where we work. We're the largest single employer in Luxen District and the Navy owns the Trznadel Cluster outright. Every civilian who comes here is contracted to our employ, at least temporarily. The only other place like this is Reinbak and we have to share that with the Army and the Medical Corps."

"That's rather a strange arrangement."

Emily shrugged. "We needed the resources to build up the Navy, so finding the Cluster was provident. There's enough minerals in the asteroid belts to build almost any number of ships and as the Taurians demonstrated – will demonstrate, I suppose – the gravitational oddities of a star cluster like this make the interior highly defensible."

"Who's going to attack you here? We've got to be eight or nine jumps from the Inner Sphere," asked Osami curiously.

"Twelve years ago, the Capellan Confederation pushed their way to within one jump of Canopus," Emily told her. She gestured to the 'walking frame' that surrounded her lower body. "I picked up the need for this at the Battle of Borgan's Rift. Back then I was figuring on putting my time in with the MAF and then getting out and going into show business."

Osami winced. "Why did you stay in the Navy after that. Wouldn't they, um, invalid you out?"

"Normally, yes. But Savitri looks after her own. She'd taken personal command of the Navy for Borgan's Rift and she visited me in hospital and said that I wouldn't need legs in zero-gravity." Emily chuckled. "She sent me as liaison when a film company started making a movie about the battle and I even got a supporting role, so I had the best of both worlds."

"So is she going to look out for us as well?" asked Mela sardonically.

Emily smiled slightly. "Why do you think she asked you to take a cargo out here?" she asked reasonably. "More than eighty percent of our shipping within the Cluster doesn't enter planetary shipping wells, meaning you're not at a disadvantage compared to dropships. In fact, for long hauls, you're at a slight advantage compared to dropship/jumpship pairs."

Sara blinked. "You're telling me that the Magestrix of Canopus, ruler of however billion people, actually sat down and figured out a niche for a tramp freighter to turn a profit at? Why would she care?"

Her response was a glare. "Maybe I'm a bit starry-eyed about Savitri, but yes. She does care. I'm not saying she sat down and personally figured out where you would be able to make a living herself – that's what she has a staff for – but she sure as hell realised you were in a tight spot and had someone find you a viable option."

"If you don't like it, you're free to trade anyplace you want. But don't bad-mouth Savitri Centrella around me." Emily pushed herself off from the seat and towards the open hatch, floating in the zero-G of the bridge.

Margaid looked at the hatch and then at Mela. "I think it's a good moment for a shareholder's meeting. Ms Hayagawa, Ms Volkman, would you mind leaving the bridge."

Acknowledging the implicit command, the two opened the door and departed. Mela pulled out a cigarette and shifted over towards one of the compartment's ventilators before lighting up. "I'm guessing this isn't about how much you want to sneak our navigator into your bunk?"

"No, it's about you being on the rag for the last month and counting." Margaid fought the urge to cross her arms and stare down at the older woman. "I'm going to have to speak to Sara about this as well, but I know you're the one setting her a bad example, so what is your problem."

"Besides the obvious?"

"Yes, besides the obvious."

Mela shook her head, smoke drifting up from the cigarette towards the air conditioning. "This isn't Canopus any more. A big shiny navy, hundreds of worlds all dancing to the tune of their monarch. Kossandra Centrella would have kicked their asses and be heading for the frontier by now."

"I'm not Kossandra Centrella."

"Nor is that over-stacked idiot on the throne. Hell, at least Crystalla understood this. My mother and the rest of the Black Brotherhood came out here to get away from all this crap."

"So what you're saying is, the universe has changed and you don't like it? Sounds like the same thing that the rest of us are dealing with."

"It's not the same!" The communications officer knocked ash from her cigarette into a zero-g ashtray. "Look, I know you and the others think I make too much of how my family were there when we colonised Canopus, but it's what I was raised with. Canopus was supposed to be a new start. You remember what it was like? A garden world, no terraforming required. And now what is it? An industrial wasteland and the party-capital of the Inner Sphere. Just another empire."

Margaid looked at her closely. "I think you're wearing some rose-tinted glasses, Mela. Kossandra always wanted the Magistracy to be big enough and rich enough to stand off House Marik. From what I've had chance to look at in their history, it may have taken almost five hundred years to accomplish that, but they got there. Canopus, Andurien and a couple of the other Periphery states banded together and smashed an attempt by the Mariks to conquer them. And they beat off the Capellans as well."

"Yes, but -"

"I'm not quite done, Mela." She paused until she was sure that the older woman was listening. "Your pride matters to you. Don't you think that they might have some pride in what they've accomplished over the years?"

* * *

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Rim Worlds Republic**

**7 April 2577**

Unbeknownst to Katherine Dormax, Charlotte Grimm wasn't as far from her as she might have thought. The Confederation-class Destroyer/Carrier OCS _Black Pearl_ wasn't only present to escort the two regiments that she had sent to retrieve Amaris, but also to ensure the maximum possible security for their queen.

The door to her stateroom – as near to a throne room as could be managed under the circumstances – opened and two infantrymen in the uniforms of Oberon's regular army escorted a man in manacles into the room with her. Charlotte looked at him inquisitively, as if unsure of his presence, while the guards attached the chains to a pair of loops set in the deck.

"Please don't step too close, your highness," the senior of the pair requested. "He's had at least some military training."

The use of the honorific drew the attention of the prisoner and he looked up at her. "You. Who are you?" he demanded.

Charlotte smiled slightly. "My, such a rude guest. Should one not offer their own name first?"

"You already know who I am."

"Humour me. It's not as if you have anything but time on your hands right now."

If looks could have killed then his glare would have not only reduced the queen to ashes but also burned through the bulkhead behind her. "Ladies first."

That drew a laugh. "I'm a lot of things, but a Lady? Please." Charlotte glanced over to the junior of the two guards, then back to her prisoner. "Now you can play nicely, or I can have you put across the knee of one of these strapping young men and have your backside paddled like a naughty child. Last chance."

The situation was bizarre enough that the extraordinary threat seemed entirely plausible when to him. "First Consul Gregory Amaris, as you know."

"Good boy. Are you sure about that First Consul bit?"

"I am. And once the my loyal soldiers and my allies in the Star League put down the rebellion, you will pay for this indignity."

Charlotte giggled. "Oh dear, you're so naive. But I'm forgetting my own manners. I am Queen Charlotte Grimm of the Oberon Confederation."

"Are you sure about that?" Amaris queried sarcastically.

"Let me check. Boys, am I your queen? In the non-dominatrix sense of course." They nodded, the younger even throwing in a salute. "There, you see. Feel free to try the same if you want."

"I'll pass."

"A wise decision." Charlotte crossed the stateroom to her chair, an armchair that looked formal enough to pass for a field-expedient throne. "Unlike some of your previous ones. I must admit to being a poor scholar of history, Mr. Amaris, and I've been wondering of late, why in the world did you want to join the Star League. It has, after all, cost you your throne."

"They are all fools. Membership in the Star League offers priceless political and economic advantages. With that, the Republic could at last be the equal of the other states."

Charlotte shook her head. "Really? I was right to call you naive. You think the Star League is coming to your rescue? They're doing nothing of the sort. Right at the moment they are gearing up for the invasion of the Magistracy and the Concordat. It'll be years before they can spare any serious resources from those campaigns to deal with you, and even they you'll be lower in their priorities than even the Alliance."

"As for equality, don't make me laugh. The Republic will be treated just the same as the other periphery realms: they'll be territories of the Star League, with a voice but no vote at all in the leadership of the League. Oh, they'll let you and your heirs govern the Republic but you'll never be equals. And one day, generations from now, one of those heirs will have had enough and he will tear it all down."

"You're insane." Amaris pulled at his chains. "You're not a prophetess, you're a jumped up pirate with delusions of a grandeur."

Charlotte giggled. "Oh I'm a little more than that, Mr. Amaris. But my father? He was a pirate, oh yes indeed. And so were his ancestors, going back another three generations. And sometimes, Mr. Amaris, I feel that blood a little more strongly than others. Would you like me to have you walk the plank? I could do that, you know. Let you die by decompression. Ugly way to die."

Amaris' breathing was shallow. "You wouldn't dare."

"You'd be surprised what I dare," she told him matter of factly. "But I'm not cruel enough to make yours a solitary fate. If I decide to send you outside without a suit, I'll make sure you have company. Your son, Richard wasn't it? He's been demanding to see that you're alright. I'm sure he'd be very happy to keep you company."

"I..." Amaris' eyes were wide.

"Did that hit a nerve?" Charlotte glanced around the cabin and then picked up a piece of paper and a pen. The paper was taken from Amaris' own study in his redoubt. "Well, I'm feeling generous. Must be something in the air. I'll make you a deal, Gregory. If you'll do one little thing for me, I promise you faithfully that I won't harm a hair on your son's head. All I want is one little autograph, right here at the bottom."

"B-but that's blank." Amaris shook his head. "You could put anything on that."

"You know what, you're right." Charlotte feigned a look of deep contemplation. "And what does it matter to you what I do with it? It's not as if you have anything at all to lose."

He took the pen and looked at it as if he had never seen one before. "I should trust the word of a pirate?"

"Oh it's worse than that. You're having to trust the word of a politican." Charlotte placed the paper on a small table and pushed it forward towards him. "Still at least I'm not a lawyer."

Amaris laughed bitterly. "You make a good point." He scrawled his signature on the paper and then closed up the pen. "So what now. You hand me over to someone that isn't bound by your promise?"

"Oh good heaven's no." Charlotte took the pen and paper, placing them neatly in a drawer next to Amaris' personal seal which one of the strike team had retreived. "You're going back to your cell, right next to your son's. And then we'll drop the pair of you off on a nice, discreet little asteroid with all the supplies you'll need to live out the rest of your life. Nothing very appetizing of course, but I'm sure you'll get used to military field rations eventually."

She nodded to the guards. "Take him away boys. I don't need him anymore."

The door didn't close immediately after Amaris was taken out of the stateroom. The reason became evident as Jerric entered the room. "How did it go?"

She nodded, eyes still fixed on the door as it slid closed. "I got what I wanted." Her eyes went wide. "You might want to – urp..."

And then she bent over and started throwing up her dinner all over her lap.

* * *

**Pirate Point, Tellman's Mistake**

**Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League**

**10 April 2577**

There was nothing like an outside enemy to bring people together, Steven McSwiggans was finding.

The past two years had been nothing but tension between the two halves of the naval task force stationed to support the Twentieth Division: the four Congress-class frigates and three Davion-class destroyers manned by the SLDF to escort the transports; and McSwiggans own FWLN detachment: three Atreus-class battleships and their escorting Libertad-class corvettes.

"If I'd known that Alena Husvar would obey my orders this sharply when we were facing an actual opponent, I'd have recommended invading last year and kept more of my hair," McSwiggans noted, running one hand across the balding crown of his head.

On the tactical display the task force looked like a single force, for the first time he could remember. They were moving out at a steady one gravity towards the enemy.

"It's ironic," Sally Boazman noted, standing beside him. "Wasn't this the Captain-General's plan all along: to lure the Canopians into launching an attack of some kind against apparently vulnerable supply bases. And now that she's gone, it's working."

"It's a bit closer that I'd have liked. Not quite a knockout punch, but..." McSwiggans eyed the group sceptically. There were eight Canopian cruisers – big, powerful vessels – and a dozen corvettes backed up by a similar number of dropships. "We've got a slight advantage in tonnage but there are a lot of fighters there."

"Then it's a good job we have our ace in the hole, however smug Admiral Husvar might be about it."

McSwiggans followed Boazman's eyes to the third group of ships on the diagram. He'd been bemused to suddenly receive reinforcements earlier in the week, but the pair of Farragut-class battleships were now looking like a godsend, skewing the balance of firepower decidedly in his favour.

Even better, Commodore Beatty, aboard the SLS _Mitchell DuKirl_, was apparently on the ball and had gone to silent running, cutting her drives and that of the SLS _Alexander Rimes_ while the Canopian sensors were still adjusting from their own jumpflares. It would take some tight handling but a terse communication between McSwiggan's flagship FWLS _Regulus_ and the _DuKirl_ had settled on the SLDF battleships being used to outflank the Canopians, pinning them against the main force.

"I almost feel sorry for them," he said. "They won't know which way to turn when Beatty lights up her drives."

"For myself," Boazman confided. "I feel for the crews. Two and a half gravities is bad enough for manoeuvring, Sustaining it for almost an hour will be brutal."

McSwiggan grinned in a predatory fashion. "I'm sure the prospect of never having to buy a drink if any of my crews are around will ease their pain."

On the plot, the positions of the three forces crept along the tracks bringing them inexorably together.

And then the Canopian force split.

"What's going on?"

Boazman was already bringing up a more detailed display. "Damn, those are fast ships," she whispered. "Their corvettes and most of their dropships are pulling at least four gravities, moving ahead of the cruisers. I think they're going to make a fast pass along with the fighters."

"Four gravities?" That was as fast as some aerospace fighters. McSwiggan couldn't think of anything past a few specialised dropships that would be able to maintain that sort of thrust. "They can't have anything much in the way of armour and weapons if they've got drives that large. We'll take shots in passing but keep your eye on the cruisers. Those are the ones that we want."

"They could just be trying to escape."

"What for? This looks like the best chance they have of hurting us. I could believe it if they'd waited until Beatty started to decelerate, but the timing is all wrong. They probably think they can turn over after the pass and come back to pincer us." He laughed suddenly. "It's almost the same as our plan. Except it isn't going to work."

"I suppose not." Boazman opened up the display again. "And Beatty should be firing up her drives any time now."

A minute passed, then a second. Finally, when McSwiggan was almost ready to risk another tightly focused microwave transmission, a pair of fusion drives lit up. The kilometres long torches began to erode the substantial degree by which their course would have overshot the battle.

"Cutting it a little fine there, weren't they?" McSwiggan glanced at the plot and the revised curve of the course of the two Battleships. "Still, it's going to work." He looked around. "Does anyone want to make book on how long it takes for those cruisers to work out their only chance is to increase their thrust and break past us? My money is on five minutes."

If anyone had taken McSwiggan up on his wager then he might have turned a profit. Instead he was rich in the respect of his officers, having guessed to within three seconds how long it would take for the Canopian cruisers to go to full military power.

It wasn't going to be enough for them to escape the weapons range of the _Dukirl_ and the _Rimes_. All four groups were now heading inexorably towards each other with the first to close being the Canopian corvettes and McSwiggan's task force.

"Sir, we're getting a signal from the _Dukirl_..."

The tone of the technican made it clear that this was not going to be good news. Fortunately they'd reached one of those points where being an Admiral required him to stand back and let everyone else work. Unless anything went drastically wrong, he'd do no good standing over his captains.

"Send it to my screen."

The screen build into his chair lit up and McSwiggan saw the familiar face of Commodore Beatty. Except she wasn't wearing SLDF uniform any more, but a turquoise Canopian uniform with the golden diamonds of an Admiral on her collar.

"It would be hypocritical of me to apologise for a _ruse d'guerre_, Admiral, but I don't believe in fighting under false colours. My real name is Stephanie Carrington and I am aboard HMS Diamond Throne, in company with HMS Emerald Sword. Both are battleships of the Canopian Navy Royal."

McSwiggan fought back the red rage of anger. "This is a trap."

"Quite so, Admiral. It seemed likely that your forces might scatter when faced with an overwhelming fleet and so I have lured you into battle where you and your ships cannot escape. I sincerely ask, for the sake of your crews, that you abandon your ships."

The admiral – the FWLN admiral – looked for words and found none. How had the Canopians seized control over a pair of the largest, most powerful ships ever built by the Terran Hegemony? For that matter, how had they been able to fake the SLDF's communications security and authorisations so perfectly? Silently he closed the channel before looking across the bridge. "Captain Boazman -."

"Sir, the corvettes are turning to clear their broadsides!"

McSwiggan's eyes swung to the plot. Sure enough the smaller Canopian vessels had ceased to accelerate, a sure sign that they were shifting orientation in order to bring the weapons along their flanks to bear. He nodded. "Captain, re-designate the _Dukirl_ and the _Rimes_ as hostile."

"Sir?"

"We've been mousetrapped, Sally." He looked at the plot and felt a spasm of pain as the handful of Leopard CVs that were escorting his ships, providing their small fighter squadrons to the covering force, blinked off the display one after the other. "But there's nothing you can do but fight the ship."

The _Regulus_ rocked slightly as its forward batteries began to tear into one of the corvettes. In defiance of all logic, the little ship seemed shrug off the impacts.

There was an almost eerie lack of response – in fact, McSwiggan saw no signs that the powerful battleship had taken any damage at all. Then he realised that it was because the Corvettes were concentrating fire on their counterparts. FWLS _Libertad_ – the class ship of the corvettes in his screening forces – blew up, killing more than a hundred crew and officers. Her sister ship _Equalitie_ disintegrated in a cloud of wreckage and escape pods. The destroyer _Marie Stuart_ spun like a top, engines misfiring, life boats and escape pods sent flying in all directions. It was a hazard to the rest of the fleet and McSwiggan was sorely tempted to order it blown apart rather than risk a collision.

Then the corvettes were racing past, the formations interpenetrating with his own. There was a bright moment as a fiery comet actually in visible range from the bridge turned out to be the burning wreck of a Canopian dropship but against that were two more of his escorts gone and three more reporting serious damage.

"Sir, they cut a swathe through our fighters," Boazman reported. "We've lost almost just from that run through our cover."

"Jesus," he swore and then looked again. It looked very much as if one of the Canopian corvettes was spilling lifeboats, perhaps that one at least had been put out of action.

Then Admiral McSwiggan straightened his shoulders. "Order our corvettes to cease acceleration and pick up survivors," he ordered. "Admiral Husvar is to bring her frigates closer in. We're going to need concentrated fire to have any hope of knocking out their cruisers."

* * *

**Low Orbit, Tellman's Mistake**

**Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League**

**11 April 2577**

Stephanie Carrington had gone her entire career without fighting anything more serious than an overconfident pirate dropship. Up until the day before. Winning the first fleet action in the short history of the Canopian Navy Royal should have been a proud moment.

The truth was, she had been too busy dealing with the aftermath to reflect upon it. The surviving League corvettes had surrendered although three were fit for nothing but scrap.

As she watched, the Porcupine-class battlecruiser HMS _Serpentine_ was towed slowly towards the pirate point where a waiting jumpship would ferry it back into the Magistracy for repairs. The little monitor was no larger than a small corvette – Stephanie could readily understand why poor Steven McSwiggan hadn't realised the threat they posed – but without the need to fit a jump drive into them, they could carry armour and weapons equivalent to a ship three times as large. They were also right on the upper limit of what a jumpship could ferry between systems.

The other eleven battlecruisers of her command were battle-ready: their crews already patching up armour damage and working around the occasional unlucky turret. _Serpentine_ had taken a hammering in the first pass though the formation and lost half her engines. Com-Capt Terekhov had evacuated his crew and managed, barely to enter a stable orbit while the rest of the battle was raging. Stephanie made a mental note to recommend he be assigned command of the next available cruiser. Talent like that was too valuable to be wasted.

"We're in geo-synchronous orbit, Admiral," ComCapt Henke reported.

"Let's get on with this." Stephanie turned to the communications officer on the flag-bridge. "Ready?"

"We've got their military, civil emergency and primary news channels all pinned down. It's pretty well developed."

"The major industry is bat farming," Stephanie replied. "The colonists make a pretty good profit milking them for the medicinal properties of their venom, I suppose they can afford the best." She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "Alright, put me on."

The powerful electronic warfare suites of a modern warship were more than up to the needs of overriding civil (and by their standards obsolete military) communications. Within thirty seconds every targeted channel was displaying a video feed of the Magistracy's flag and every audio signal was replaced by the first few bars of their national anthem.

When the light beside her own monitor lit up, Stephanie knew that she was on camera.

"Ladies and gentleman of Tellman's Mistake and of the Star League's Twentieth Division, I am Admiral Carrington of the Canopian Navy Royal. On January Second two years ago, the Star League Council gave my nation three months to surrender our sovereignty to them on the grounds not of any provocation or crime but due to their overweening pride and desire for war."

"Now that war has come to Tellman's Mistake. The ships of the Star League Defense Force and the Free Worlds League Navy stationed here have been destroyed or captured without exception. Your planet is blockaded and will remain thus for the foreseeable future."

"It is now my intention to destroy the military bases that have been established here to house the Twentieth Division. As that Division is stationed here entirely as a prelude to their deployment as an invasion force against my nation, these facilities are legitimate military targets for orbital bombardment under the Ares Conventions. There is no arguement and no weapon at your disposal that can deter me from this course of action."

"As I see no need to cause unnecessary loss of life I will not begin the bombardment until eighteen hundred hours standard military time, slightly more than six standard hours from this transmission. This should provide ample time for civilians and military personnel to evacuate the bases. Neither I, my Navy nor my monarch will accept any responsibility for anyone within these military facilities as of eighteen standard hours today."

"Good day."

* * *

**Chateau Filtvet, Filtvet**

**Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth**

**18 April 2577 (17 April 3032 local calendar)**

The Arch-Duchess of Filtvet, Minister of the Periphery March and Marshal of that same March only needed one seat at the table since they were all the same person. Rachel Calderon-Davion-Gallagher was beginning to wonder if she might be better off going Kurita-style and investing in a hanko seal to spare her the handcramps of signing her name on all of the innumerable pieces of paper that crossed her desk.

There were two sets of documents in front of her. One was her usual workload. The other was the decisions she usually referred to New Avalon for the First Prince to deal with. That wasn't an option right at the moment for obvious reasons, which left them for her to deal with.

"We've got a reasonably picture of what is going on now," her husband Simon told her from his own desk, set at right angles to hers and opposite the two smaller desks – currently vacant – for their secretaries. The working office they shared was set aside from the more formal apartments of the Chateau.

He brought up a map of the Inner Sphere on the holographic display suspended from the ceiling between their desks and then touched the controls to alter the borders from those familiar in the 3030s to those of the 2570s. A few blocks of colour however remained as they had on the first map.

"We're here, stretching across from the Taurian border, right up to the edge of the Draconis March. The Tortugan Dominion is right where it ought to be, rimwards of us. All the HPG relay stations connecting us are still in place. And anti-spinward of us is the Concordat, of course. Effectively they're occupying the same border with the Federated Suns that they did historically, except of course at Malagrotta. So much for the Fedrated Commonwealth."

Rachel rested her chin on one hand. "We're probably better stop calling ourselves that."

"What?"

"Without the Lyrans and the Federated Suns – or the Oberon Confederation for that matter – the Taurians become the dominant partner. I know my family history well enough to know that putting us under the Taurian banner would doom any chance of reconciliation with my many-greats-grandfather. Hopefully we'll still be allies, but..."

"I suppose you're right. We'll have to recycle a lot of headed paper though."

Rachel chuckled at the complaint. "So that's our core region. How about the flanks."

"Despite the loss of the links across the Draconis March, we now know that the Outworlds Alliance is still there. The Taurian Expeditionary force emplaced new relays as they went so we're now in fairly reliable contact. There's a gap around them -" a narrow curved arc around the Alliance glowed briefly on the map "- made up of worlds that they would lose to the Combine and the Suns in the Reunification War. SLDF and DCMS forces have moved into that region, which has complicated President Avellar's efforts to re-integrate them into the Alliance we're accustomed to."

"Anti-spinwards, we've spoken to Magestrix Centralla and to Caesar O'Reilly. I think we'd have to consider them as wild cards. They're saying all the right things but in reality they could go either way."

She frowned. "Why do you say that? Savitri has always been friendly and the Marians were allies during the Secession War."

Simon shook his head. "That was seven years ago. Since then, the Caesar has become much closer to the Free Worlds League. It's possibly they might elect to seek an accomodation there rather than stand with us against the Star League. They'd certainly have a lot of offer: MIIO believes that their weapons research might have been ahead of us in some respects."

"Alright. There may be something there, so we'll need to get some diplomats out there to convince him to stay allied with is. But Savatri? Simon, I've know her more than a decade and she hates the Star League. She even extorted that apology out of Uncle Hanse, Kristen, Theodore and Katrina at the Sian Conference."

"Yes, but look at it from her point of view. Just by arriving, she's gutted the SLDF's VII Corps and their Auxiliaries. She's basically at no risk at all right now. She can afford to sit back while the rest of us are worn down fighting the Star League and then establish a power base once no one can contest us. She already has Andurien – imagine how influential she could be if she carved the Capellans or the Free Worlds League apart into satellite states."

"I think you're reaching too far. Even if she wanted an empire, which I honestly doubt, she'd not have the support in the Magistracy for a war of aggression. Back when she intervened to help Andurien break away, she was really hurting for support from the population. They'd probably accept defending themselves from the Star League, but a war of conquest would be another thing entirely."

Rachel pushed her chair back and walked over to look at the map again. "We'll need a few months before we can defend ourselves it need be. But if we give the Star League too long, they may be able to concentrate enough forces to post a serious threat to one of us."

"What will you do if Prince Alexander demands we rejoin the Federated Suns? You are a Davion... I know you pledged your allegiance to the Suns when Prince Hanse invested you as Arch-Duchess."

She turned to look at him. "I don't know. Joining the Star League..."

Simon closed down the holographic display. "Perhaps it is the other states that are worrying about our reliability. Are you sure that negotiating with your ancestor is the right thing to do?"

"I think we owe him the chance." Rachel looked at her husband and smiled wryly. "He's one of the great Davions, you know. Perhaps the greatest ruler we ever had... Even if he did take us into the Star League. Maybe it's old fashioned of me, but I don't want to put him through another civil war if I can help it."

* * *

**Presidential Offices, Famindas**

**Alpheratz, Outworlds Alliance**

**20 April 2577 (19 April 3032 local calendar)**

"A belated welcome to Alliance, Admiral Cain."

Callum Avellar, President of the Outworlds Alliance looked absurdly young to be head of an interstellar nation – no older than some of the rookie pilots under Cain's command. He was actually in his late thirties, but the Canopian's ground-breaking rejuvenation treatment had worked wonders for him. It wasn't vanity that had led the President to spend six months in a hospital bed getting a fresh leaf of life: he'd spent a year in a coma following a career-ending aerospace crash later traced to sabotage. Rejuvenation had repaired the nerve damage that kept him out of the cockpit, with the restored lease of life merely a bonus.

It didn't occur to Garius Cain that being combat ready arguably did count as vanity on the part of a head of state.

"It's good to finally be here, President Avellar," he assured the younger man, taking the offered hand in a crushing grip. "I gather from our earlier communications that you have some problems?"

"You could say that." Callum gestured for the Admiral to take a seat on one of the couches flanking a coffee table. "Something to drink?"

"Is there any rum in that coffee?"

"There can be."

"Then yes."

Callum laughed and pulled a bottle out from under the table. "Your reputation precedes you." He poured a finger of the contents into one of the mugs and then added coffee before sliding it over to his guest. "Right now the DCMS have landed on Tabayama and Amos Forlough's II Corps have landed troops on Niles and on Bryceland. There was an attack on Groveld but the First Defense Fleet was able to take that apart before they hit orbit."

"It sounds as if you're stretched quite thin."

"You're not wrong. Jaime Wolf was able to buy us some time on Niles but there are too many ground troops there for me to push back without concentrating the entire Ground Defense Arm there, which I can't do with the Dracs' nibbling along the flank."

"How are the downtimers doing?"

"I suppose you mean militarily, not politically?"

"With respect, Mr President, the latter is your problem."

"Agreed. The chairmen of the two Armoured Divisions that were posted to the remaining downtime worlds have confirmed that they accept my authority and they will abide by the orders of the OADF and the Military Review Board."

"Still not enough though?"

"Correct. You don't have any ground troops with you, I gather?"

"Nothing beyond the onboard marine complements, no," Cain admitted. "Still, we've got a lot of aerospace fighters on the Carriers."

Callum shrugged. "We've got a good sized force ourselves but what we don't have is the heavy warships necessary to take out the Star League fleet without taking unacceptable losses among our corvettes. For now, I mostly want to contain the situation."

"I take it there's some reason we can't nuke them?"

"Unfortunately, General Forlough has been smart enough to realise that we're abiding by the Ares Conventions. He's moved all his ships, including jumpships, to orbits within seventy-five thousand kilometers of Niles. It's playing havoc with his couriers, but we can't simply send in fighters loaded for anti-shipping strikes without discarding the Conventions in which case..."

"Yes, I agree." Forlough was infamous for ordering some of the most brutal reprisals against civilian populations of any officer during the Reunification Wars, both in the Outworlds Alliance and later the Taurian Concordat. "He has hostages against us then."

"Yes. But to move out and take additional worlds, he'll have to come out of his shell," Callum observed. "Your orders are to support us, Jack tells me. I'd like you to work together with the Second Defense Fleet and maintain a loose blockade while I move forces to bolster defences on Medron, Valentina and Weisau."

"However, the bulk of the Ground Arm and our inherited Armour Divisions will be moving up with the First Defense Fleet to Santiago_. Sho-sho_ Igushi has not been quite as cautious and I want the DCMS off my people's worlds. We'll hit them there, and if all goes well, follow up to Tabayama."

"And if that doesn't stop them?"

Callum's lips curled into a smile. "Something we may forget is that in this day and age, the capital of the Draconis Combine isn't Luthien. It's on New Samarkand, only two jumps from Tabayama."

"Thinking of paying a visit to your neighbour?" asked Cain.

"It would only be polite, wouldn't it?"

* * *

**RWA Field HQ, Illium**

**Rim Worlds Republic**

**24 April 2577**

Jerric Grimm-Davion entered the tent as if he owned it, treating the four soldiers surrounding him as if they were an honour guard.

The men and women in front of him would be harder to sell as to the role. Colonel Angus Graham of the Tartan Brigade was obviously in charge, no surprise given that his regiment was one of those counted among Amaris' household regiments. Beside him were commanders of two warships and three other regiments that still cleaved to the authority of their lawful First Consul – albeit tenuously in the case of the First Amaris Dragoons.

"Alright, you're here. What do you have to say?" Colonel Cana of the First Dragoons opened aggressively, perhaps in compensation for the divided loyalties of his unit.

Graham glared at his colleague. "No need to forget our manners, Silvio." He looked back to their guest. "So, you're a Davion? That would put you a long way from home."

"You're not wrong," Jerric agreed. "However, I consider Oberon to be just as much my home these days."

"You're not here for a tea party so enough pleasantries. Why should we listen to the lapdog of the woman who murdered Gregory Amaris?"

Although Graham appeared irritated by Cana's interruption of the conversation, Jerric could see that two of the other representatives weren't unhappy with it so he got to the point.

"Firstly, Gregory Amaris is alive and well – if unhappy with his confinement. Secondly, you should listen to me because I'm the one who knows what is happening and what will happen next. At least, what will happen next unless the Rim Worlds get their act together."

"Do tell," said one of the naval officers sceptically.

"Wait." Ada Sidhu of the Third Dragoons was looking thoughtful. "The rumours said that your Queen claimed to be from the future. That's what you mean?"

Jerric nodded. "Essentially, yes. You can ask me how if you want but I don't have any answers for you there. So far as I know, it wasn't intentional on our part. But yes, I was born in 2997 and our last contact with the rest of the universe in that era was December 3032. So as far as we're concerned, this is all ancient history."

"And just for the record: you're looking at a twenty year war that _everyone_ loses. The Rift Republicans lose because Gregory Amaris is restored to power, you lose because you get forced into the Star League as a conquered province and Amaris loses because he gets all of three years back in power before he's assassinated and the politics of the Republic collapse back into power struggles. You probably don't want to know how the Republic eventually gets dismembered and it won't be for a couple of hundred years anyway."

"That's completely ridiculous."

"Yes, but other than the idea of time travel it sounds pretty plausible," Sidhu noted. "The Star League have said outright that they'll invade if we don't accept their authority. Does anyone really think that the Lyrans would treat us as allies rather than exploiting their advantage if they have us occupied."

"That's why we should support the First Consul in joining the League on our terms," persisted Cana. "Why are we even listening to this?"

"Because whatever else might be true, we all swore oaths to the Republic and right now this man's Queen controls our First Consul."

"And that brings me to my next point." Jerric produced a folded piece of paper. "I'm sure you'll recognise the seal and the signature."

Graham accepted and unfolded the document. "Hmm. Interesting." He passed it on to Sidhu.

"'Interesting'?" Cana demanded, reaching for the paper.

Sidhu moved it just outside his reach. "This isn't a classroom, Silvio." She pointedly handed it to the sceptical naval officer. "Alright, I accept this."

"What?" the man exclaimed. "This... this going to destroy the Republic!"

"We're already fighting a civil war. This at least gives us the chance of coming up with an answer that doesn't leave us killing each other."

Cana finally received the paper. "This is outrageous. You can't expect me to believe that Amaris actually wrote this."

Jerric smiled slightly. "Actually, it was typed by my secretary. The former-First Consul merely signed it in return for certain assurances."

"This is a blatant power-play by that bitch!"

"Excuse me." Jerric leant over the table and grabbed the colonel by the collar with both hands, dragging him out of his chair. "You are referring. To. My. Wife." And then he slammed the Colonel's face down into the table.

There was a stunned silence and then the soldiers moved forward to restrain the emissary.

"That won't be necessary, boys," Graham said, waving them off. "Justified, Lord Davion but don't do it again."

"You... ow... he assaulted me!" Cana protested, testing his nose, which was bleeding but didn't appear to be broken.

Graham shook his head. "Think yourself lucky, Silvio, that you weren't referring to _my_ wife." He picked up the document again. "So, now that you've let us know about Amaris' abdication and the appointment of Queen Grimm to form a new constitutional convention, what's the next step?"

"Well Colonel, since you represent the largest single faction of the Rim Worlds Army, I'm inviting you to either attend the convention or to send representatives."

"And if we don't?"

"Do you really want the Rift Republicans to be the sole voice controlling the future of your nation?"

* * *

**Landing, Tellman's Mistake**

**Principality of Regulus, Free Worlds League**

**25 April 2577**

The Ares Conventions prohibited commanders from taking battle into populated areas. Marcus Barton had seen the Conventions honoured more in the breach than not on occasion but he was relieved to see that this did not appear to be one of them.

The Twentieth Division, spread out over a dozen bases, hadn't managed to regroup in the two weeks since those bases were obliterated from orbit. Not only were the transport links of the colony simply not up to moving hundreds of tanks, 'Mechs and supply trucks around, but also the tiny handful of aerospace fighters at their disposal were unable to prevent naval fighters from seeking the scattered regiments and battalions out.

On paper, Barton's Brigade was no match for the massed forces of nine SLDF 'Mech regiments along with their conventional support, but wars were not fought just on paper. This fragment of the whole was made up of just two combined-arms regiments, perhaps half their number made up by BattleMechs and the rest a mess of Davion-built Tiger medium tanks and infantry carriers. They'd dug in on heights overlooking the planetary capital and even managed to set up some decent air defences.

That had put them on Marcus' list and the previous evening dropships had descended just over two hundred kilometers away to deposit his own Second McCarron's Armored Cavalry, the Fourth Canopian Light Horse, First Magistracy Highlanders. In support of these 'BattleMech regiments were the Third Light and Fifth Heavy Magistracy Brigades: each providing aviation, infantry and armoured regiments to the force.

The odds were heavily in the Canopian's favour. That was fine with Marcus. War wasn't often fair.

Pausing his _Awesome_ on the military crest of the next line of hills he watched the rest of his regiment form up. It didn't take long: most of them were in 'Mechs that could outpace the lumbering eight-ton warmachine, but even powerful machines like Bill Styles' _Dragon_ or Elaine Parks' _Archer_ respected the firepower and durability of their commander's BattleMech.

Once he was sure only a handful of sensors were above the ridge, Marcus punched open a command channel. "Base, what's the situation with the Highlanders and the Light Horse."

"Both regiments report that they aare deployed and ready for action," replied the comm-tech back aboard the battered Command Overlord that Marcus had managed to have assigned to the transport flotilla for the mission. A slightly repressive tone sneaked into the woman's voice. "So are the Light and Heavy Brigades."

He grinned in the privacy of his cockpit. "Naturally they are, those boys and girls aren't as flighty as we Mechwarriors." Word of that little quip would get around, he knew, and the typical soldier would have a bit more of a swagger in their step for a few days. What old soldier was it that had claimed the moral was ten times as important as the physical? "Okay, see if you can get in touch with whoever is in command of the Slobs outside Landing, would you?"

The patience to wait didn't come easily to Marcus and he half wished that he was making the contact himself but that would be stupid: anyone with half a brain would be able to pick out his 'Mech as the command unit and then where would he be?

"I have a Lieutenant-General Mae. Putting you through now."

"General Mae, this is Colonel Marcus Barton of the Magistracy Army. Your forces are surrounded by superior numbers and unless I miss my guess you aren't all that well off for supplies. I am offering you the chance to surrender."

The voice that replied was in accented English – somewhat similar to that he'd heard ComStar staff use back when they were still operating. "Thank you for the courtesy, Colonel. However I do not consider my position to be untenable."

Marcus nodded. He hadn't expected anything else. "It's your funeral, General."

"Not just mine, but we will fight anyway."

For a moment he was tempted to wish the woman luck, which would have been idiotic under the circumstances. Instead he simply cut off the channel and opened another, signalling to the command centre to relay his message to all officers in the force.

"This is Colonel Barton. The Slobs have declined the opportunity to surrender so we're going ahead with the attack. You all know the plan and this one is by the numbers and on the bounce. First number is on the mark..." The clock on his controls ticked up to the minute. "Mark."

Nothing happened, which was precisely according to plan. The first four minutes of the plotted out attack plan was set aside for any officers whose troops weren't one hundred percent ready for their role to rectify that fact.

As scores of other men and women were doing, Marcus checked the rest of his lance. The _Archer_ of Elaine Parks was crouched slightly to keep its large missile racks below the ridgeline, which gave it the appearance of restrained eagerness. On the other side of Elaine, he could see Bill's _Dragon_ simply standing at rest – squatter than the rest of the lance, not even the domed cockpit would be visible from the heights.

It had taken Marcus a while to pick out a replacement for Ning-Ti Liao, the former Capellan having accepted an offer to take on a battalion command in the Third Andermax Volunteers. Marcus rather suspected it was time he looked at finding a promotion for Elaine as well before the Magestrix badgered Archie into posting her outside the Armored Cavarly. Perhaps nominate her for command of the Seventh regiment, if rumour was right about it being raised in a year or so?

In any case, Marcus Baxter was shaping up well as the fourth man, despite the unfortunate coincidence in first names. Baxter's _Striker_ was a command model, fresh off the production lines only three years before, but unlike the rest of the Command Lance it hadn't been refitted with advanced technologies. Still, it was solid. Like the man inside.

Marcus watched the clock tick over and then stabbed the button for the battalion open channel. "Move out."

More than thirty BattleMechs followed him as he walked his _Awesome_ over the ridgeline. There was no rush, just a two staggered lines of heavy and assault machines, covering a frontage of a kilometre and a half. Off to the left, two more battalions were doing the same and ten kilometres past them, the Magistracy Highlanders and the tank regiment of the Heavy Brigade were moving up, pincering the Star League Defense Force's position from north and east.

There was movement on the hill now and Marcus saw what could only be 'Mechs and armoured fighting vehicles moving up into pre-dug fighting positions that would cover legs or tracks while they fired into the advancing Armoured Cavalry.

Normally Marcus would want to move as fast as he could, to get in amongst them. Most of the 'Mechs was seeing were long-range fighters – _Griffin_s and _Shadow Hawk_s similar to those built in the Magistracy, along with a smatterin_g of Dervish_es. The irony that these ancient designs would still be in production and service four hundred years later would probably bemuse their mechwarriors but Marcus had grown up with the idea. It was only in the last decade or so that engineers had started to innovate beyond patching together designs based on technologies developed by the Star League.

Still advancing at a steady thirty kilometres an hours, Marcus knew that his forces would be tempting targets for the SLDF gunners as soon as they entered range.

Sure enough, as the range dropped below seven hundred metres, a volley of long range missiles rocketed out of the hillside and fell short of a _Marauder_ halfway along the battalion front. Since it wasn't part of a concerted volley and had been fired a hair too soon, Marcus could only assume that the gunner had been over-eager. Amateur, he thought scornfully.

Intentional or not, the attempt spurred others to join in and soon a barrage was erupting from the hill towards Marcus and his battalion. "Mongol!" he barked and the battalion obediently followed the plan, turning from their advance to march in a long, shallow loop along a notional line almost six hundred metres from the nearest SLDF position. They also kicked up their speed, Marcus' _Awesome_ pounding along at its top speed of fifty kilometres per hour, significantly impeding the accuracy of the SLDF, and returned fire.

In the heat of action, it would have taken a detached observer, or a genuine veteran, to recognise that the only weapons being fired by Barton's Regiment were lasers and PPC – Marcus in particular blazing away with no real expecation that the four PPCs on his _Awesome_ would hit anything but cover, though reveling in the chance to cut loose without overstressing his heatsinks as would have been the case before the upgrades had been made.

He didn't need to give an order for what came next. The SLDF were making themselves entirely obvious both to infra-red sensors and even to the Mark One eyeball. Now the aviation regiments of both brigades took full advantage, their Dragonfly helicopters hurtling across the low ground in front of the heights at high speed, practically flying sideways as their nose-mounted PPCs spat lightning at the startled 'Mechs and vehicles.

A few of the helicopters were unfortunate enough to cross paths with weapons fire, intentional or otherwise, and Marcus saw two of them crash to the, damaged rotors still whirling in desperate attempts to soften the landings. The others cruised onwards, protected by speed and distance.

"Sarmatia," Marcus roared and dug the heel of the _Awesome_ into the ground, turning sharply. There was a ragged cheer from the rest of the battalion as they joined and then in some cases overtook his charge, all weapons firing now.

The defenders, caught off-guard by the sudden aerial attack, and in many cases sporting damaged armour and depleted ammunition from their earlier volleys, were unprepared by the sudden ferocity of the fire they were under, much less for the suddenly closing ranges.

Marcus picked out a _Shadow Ha_wk that had made the mistake of freezing as its mechwarrior hesitated over who he should target. All four shots crashed into the medium 'Mech, two of them nailing the centre of the chest while his left arm PPC smashed into the protection over the _Shadow Hawk_'s right shoulder. The PPC in the _Awesome_'s right arm smashed its charge directly into the SLDF 'Mech's faceplate however, peeling away layer after layer of armour and frying the sensitive electronics there.

Since the _Shadow Hawk_ didn't immediately go limp, Marcus guessed that the mechwarrior's cockpit must not have been breached, quite, but that wasn't going to save the unlucky Slob. Elaine had also seen the easy target and let it have a full salvo in punishment for the carelessness of the Mechwarrior. Forty long-range missiles roared out of the huge launchers that made up the torso of her _Archer_ and every last one of them crashed against the luckless _Shadow_ _Hawk_. That would have been superb shooting, even for an elite mechwarrior like Marcus' second, but the Streak technology she'd had retrofitted onto the ancient _Archer_ made it almost routine. Unsurprisingly the SLDF machine went down like a ninepin.

Under other circumstances, Marcus might have joked with Elaine about the advantages of leaving something to salvage but he saw a Missile Carrier appear in a previously vacant firing position. It was clearly unmarked and must have held back earlier, which could only mean it wasn't carrying missiles that would have reached so far. "Bill! Left!"

Near the head of the charge and having missed seeing the Carrier that was in perfect position to catch him in the flank, Bill Styles nonetheless jerked his _Dragon_ to the left upon that command and the massive volley of short range missiles sailed past him, only a handful exploding against the heavy 'Mechs armour.

Marcus didn't give the tank a second chance to fire: turning slightly he brought all four PPCs to bear and closed his fingers on all four triggers. Blazing particle beams ripped through the armour of the carrier's missile racks. For a moment there was no evidence of the hits except for four blackened holes in the structure and then the entire contents of the firing position were consumed by a fireball as the missile carrier disintegrated into a million pieces.

Without wasting the movement of his evasion, Bill dropped the muzzle of his autocannon and with a staccato rattle the weapon slammed a chain of submuntions along the side f a Tiger tank. The armoured vehicle ground to a halt as one of the tracks snapped but its turret began to swing to bear. Then Baxter's _Striker_ crested the side of an embankment, planted its next stride on top of the turret and stepped over it, apparently not even noticing the Tiger as he walked on (not that Marcus believed it, but it was stylishly done). Given that the turret was not only flattened but that the tank barrel was actually bent, none of them wasted more firepower on it.

As Marcus started up the slope he saw SLDF 'Mechs begin to retreat up the hill. Many had jump-jets and were using them to bound upwards and backwards, exposing themselves in the air, but making better speed than the heavier machines chasing them could match.

It wasn't necessary for him to order the battalion onwards. They knew their job and each lance advanced as a coherent force, not falling into disorder as they systematically tore through any remaining resistance and maintained pressure on those who fled. A pair of Canopian-built _Griffin_s fired their own jumpjets to close up the range. The multi-missile launchers on their shoulders spat salvos of short-range missiles into one of their SLDF counterparts, who lacked the ability to switch from LRMs and found his return fire failing to detonate against their armour. The 'Mech jumped back again, its hunters in close pursuit.

It was worse for the SLDF tanks – they couldn't hope to get away and so they twisted and turned, trying to buy time for their comrades to escape. A _Marauder_ fell as a Tiger rammed directly into one leg and Marcus saw infantrymen scrambling up onto the fallen 'Mech with suicidal bravery.

A second _Marauder_ paused and aimed the pulse lasers mounted in each claw-like 'hand' at the infantry, cutting them down without regard for the damage done to its fellow Canopian 'Mech. That done it turned the fury of its PPCs on the tank, which practically melted under the barrage.

Marcus moved on, although he kept an eye on the scene until he was sure that the first _Marauder_ was standing. He would lose 'Mechs and probably mechwarriors during this attack – it was the price of doing business – but he wasn't going to lose any to inattention.

There was a roar of autocannon fire and Marcus jerked his attention forwards a lance of heavies – two _Banshee_s, a _Warhammer_ and a _Striker_ – charging the wrong direction: downhill and towards him. A second later and he realised they were all painted in the same camouflage pattern as the lighter SLDF 'Mechs.

Baxter was nearest, too close to avoid the charge, he instead braced his _Striker_ and met his counterpart with a full salvo of laser, autocannon and PPC. It wasn't enough to slow the eighty-ton 'Mechs' downhill momentum but it did put it off-balance for the collision that followed. Baxter's 'Mech spun to one side under the impact and crashed face first onto the hill before half-rolling and coming to rest face up, entire sheets of armour plating torn away from its centre chest.

The other _Striker_ literally left the ground, tumbling head over heels down the slope, one leg coming away entirely, and landed skewered on the up-raised barrel of a wrecked tank's cannon, the brutalised muzzle actually jutting up out of the front torso, having ripped through rear armour and gyro like a stake through the heart.

Not that Marcus had much time to worry about that. The most dangerous of the three remaining 'Mechs was the _Warhammer_, which was conveniently also the least heavily armoured. He, Bill and Elaine all focused their weapons directly upon the heavy 'Mech. At this range, the LRMs should be having trouble arming but Canopian finance had bought an advanced Marian design a few years previously and the _Warhammer_ staggered out of the explosions, two thirds of its armour torn away and one arm hanging by a few ragged myomers, the internal skeleton having sheared away.

Despite this, the Slob in the cockpit kept coming. Marcus had to give him credit for balls, even if by doing so he was blocking the fire of the _Banshee_s towards Elaine, whose _Archer_ they were trying to target.

In response, Elaine pumped off a volley of missiles up and over the _Warhammer_ to start wearing down the left-most _Banshee_, while Marcus sidestepped to rake the other's legs with his PPCs. They kept coming and he realised that they were trying to break out rather than hold them back. Which would rather make a waste out of having the Canopian Light Horse and the tanks of the Light Brigade covering the routes west.

Marcus would accept letting the Slobs retreat south into Landing because he could think of almost nothing more likely to win the local populace over to the Canopian side than having the SLDF use them as human shields, but north? Not happening. He fired again, now feeling even the advanced cooling system beginning to strain but also seeing armour peel away from the vulnerable myomers of the _Banshee_'s legs. Missiles and autocannon fire from Bill ripped into the bundles of artificial muscle, bringing the towering assault 'Mech down.

Elaine stepped up to handle the _Warhammer_, using the powerful fists of her _Archer_ to tear away the still operational arm and then bring it crashing down upon the other heavy BattleMech's chest, smashing three of the structural 'ribs' around the reactor.

Now alone, the remaining _Banshee_ slowed to a halt, seeing all three McCarron 'Mechs drawing a bead on him. Slowly the two great arms rose until they were pointed directly upwards and a voice came from the speakers: "I surrender! I surrender!"

Marcus reached for his own external speakers but Elaine beat him to it. "Then punch out, right now."

There was a second's hesitation and then the canopy popped off and the mechwarrior within was propelled skywards by his ejection seat.

Left standing, on the hillside, the Banshee wobbled and then fell backwards with slow dignity, like a great tree, until it crashed onto the hillside and moved no more.

* * *

**Saso, New Syrtis**

**Capellan March, Federated Suns**

**29 April 2577**

"I don't understand this," Charles Wexworth muttered from the office he'd been provided in the ducal palace. "I thought Prince Davion was all in favour of the attack but now he's urging caution."

The palace, all but abandoned following Cassandra Varnay's exile to the Capellan Confederation forty years before, had taken weeks to clean up to act as Wexworth's command post but whatever was suggested about his ego, it was the many large rooms, communications centre and proximity to the spaceport that had convinced him to use the structure.

"Perhaps he has obtained new information," suggested General Daniel Luqman, his chief of staff. "A large swathe of the Federated Suns was caught up in what happened last Christmas. No doubt he has been making investigations of his own."

"Hmm. Warning that the Taurian Concordat may have larger and more advanced forces than anticipated. We know that the bulk of their fleet was at Malagrotta three months ago. There's certainly been time for them to depart – perhaps a spy ship has shown that they have left. No, surely the message would come from Admiral Vincent rather than from New Avalon."

Luqmann sighed. "I can't argue with your logic sir. We have attacks scheduled for Ridgebrook, Keuterville and Estuan but there's still time to call them off."

"That would be a little too cautious, I think. No, I want you to cut orders for General Vriss, General Neville and Admiral Vincent. Our original plan was for the AFFS Corps and their fleet to act as a reserve but instead they are to join the main invasion force. The extra BattleMech regiments and warships should be more than enough to ensure that they can deal with anything that the Taurians are likely to have."

"And the other two attacks?"

Wexworth stood and looked out the window. "Put those on hold for now. Instead, detach a pair of corvettes to jump well outside both systems and see what radio signals they can pick up. I will only approve further action once I hear back from them and the initial reports from Estuan. By that point we should know what we're dealing with and can press ahead with the full campaign."

"Or not, of course."

"That is possible," the general admitted. "But seriously, I don't expect much to happen. This event, whatever it is, has bought the Taurians some more time, but that's all."

"I don't mean to sound defeatist," Luqmann said cautiously, "But the Taurians did manage to overwhelm the ships sent to Malagrotta fairly easily."

"Oh yes, but in fairness they had numbers on their side. A squadron of less than a dozen warships against eight or even ten times their number. There will be fully eighty warships in the Estuan system. I suppose that the Taurians could exceed that, but even then it wouldn't be possible for them triumph without taking heavy losses and casualties. While a defeat for us there would be a terrible tragedy, the losses to the Taurian Navy would guarantee that they couldn't resist further attacks by us."

Luqmann schooled his features to mask anything that could be taken for disrespect. "With respect sir, that's..."

"Yes, poorly put. I don't desire that we should lose, even under those terms. Make sure that the orders are clear: if they are seriously out-numbered, they to preserve their forces even if it means breaking off the attack. But if they have any reasonable chance of engaging the Taurians on equal terms or better then they are to do so. I'm confident that ship for ship, the SLDF is more than a match for them."


	5. Book One, Chapter Four

Author's Note**  
**

One question I get about the story is 'Where did the warships come from?'

The Periphery in the story certainly has fleets that make the Age of War / Early Star League fleets blush, a great contrast to their position in the canonical thirty-first century (where the Taurians struggled to repair a single ancient corvette). There are a couple of things that caused the divergence: firstly the earlier and wider dissemination of Star League technical data and secondly the destruction of the Taurian capital city by a suicide dropship in late 3020.

In the first case, two seperate Star League Memory Cores were located in quick succession around 3020. The first was found under the capital city of the Illyrian Palatinate and was approximately equivalent in content to the canonical Helm Memory Core. Unlike Helm, where ComStar's involvement destroyed the computer and left the Gray Death Legion with effectively a few giant thumb-drives full of data, the Illyrian site was not learned of by ComStar for several years. As a result, the Core and the Star League computer systems necessary to read it were salvaged intact and in the general chaos of 3020 fell into the hands of the Canopians and Marians. The Canopians shared this with the Taurians, who in turn handed the data on to the Outworlds Alliance and to the nascent Federated Commonwealth.

The second core was the New Dallas Core, discovered by an expedition sponsored by Hanse Davion but led by Rachel Calderon-Davion and Garick Stark. Again, the core and the computers were essentially intact and when the Taurians joined the Federated Commonwealth they received access to the data. Shortly thereafter agents of the ISF managed to get copies of the data (but not the computers) from NAIS and Takashi Kurita elected to share the data with his Kapteyn allies (by this time Duggan Marik and Elizabeth Jordan Liao). Thus the full range of information on warship construction was relatively available quite early in the 3020s whereas in canon some parts eluded even NAIS well into the 3050s (partly because no one had really tried: the RX-78 project at NAIS was the first attempt by any Successor State to lay down warships and it didn't start until 3050).

And then there was the Samantha Incident, when 'pirates' launched a raid on the Taurian capital and wound up crashing an Overlord dropship at high speed on top of Samantha University. Thomas Calderon had died several months earlier during a wave of high-profile assassinations around the Periphery and this incident killed his successor Phelan Calderon and essentially all the close relatives of House Calderon except Rachel Calderon-Davion, who had been raised entirely in the Federated Suns by her uncle Hanse Davion. Rather than put a Davion on the throne, the Taurian government dug out the illegitimate son of an illegitimate daughter. Jack Calderon, once enthroned as Protector, rallied his people with a pledge of never leaving the Concordat vulnerable to such attacks again.

In order to achieve this, the Taurians first neutralised the threats to them in the Inner Sphere by bullying their way into the Federated Commonwealth. This opened the doors of trade into the Federated Suns and, as above, gave them access to both memory cores. Jack Calderon used the money and data to start building up a warfleet on a grand scale, sinking billions into the yards and design teams necessary. Since they could copy a lot of the necessary data straight from the Memory Cores, there were relatively few false steps and within a few years the first warships were coming out of the yards. This rather caught the attention of everyone else: the existence of a Taurian warship fleet meant that they were now a credible threat to any of their neighbours and the race to match or surpass them kicked off - first with outright copies of old Star League or Age of War designs, and then with home-built designs. Even those states that couldn't build their own warships might be able to purchase them from an ally who would probably be glad of the cash influx. Thus, by 3031, there were literally hundreds of warships either built or under construction.

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**1 May 2577 (2 May 3032 local calendar)**

"Good news, Protector," Director Bond announced. "The Canopians have taken on the remains of the SLDF forces on their front."

Jack looked up from where his two oldest daughters were playing on the rug of his lounge. "D-, uh..." he looked down at the girls guiltily, "Confound it, Bond. Is that really the sort of urgent news that you have to barge in and tell me right now?"

The head of Taurian Intelligence looked abashed. "I'm sorry sir, but you did tell me to advise you immediately I heard of any other battles between the Star League and our allies."

"I did?" Jack frowned. "Oh, quite right. My mistake." He reached down and poked the shoulder of the elder of the two girls on the rug. "Let that be a lesson to you, Beth. Someone will all take you a little bit too literally."

"Okay, daddy. But what does literally mean?"

"Hmm. Why don't you take Sarah and ask your mother?"

The younger girl looked up, "What don't you want us to hear, daddy?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Next time, at least call me somewhere private, when you have this sort of news," he told Bond before turning back to the girls. "Alright, you can stay if you want to. But you've got to be quiet and let Mr. Bond speak, okay?"

The girls glanced at each other and then Sarah jumped up and rushed to take the coveted place in her father's lap. Beth, a fraction slower, pouted slightly before taking over the chair's matching footstool (that Jack never used) and sitting demurely on it, smoothing down her skirt.

"You may begin, Mr. Bond," Beth instructed regally.

The spymaster gave her charming smile. "Of course, Lady Calderon. Two-thirds of the SLDF's VII Division was on worlds that vanished last Christmas, substantially reducing the threat they posed. It appears that the Magestrix decided that even the remaining Division, posted on Tellman's Mistake on her anti-spinward border, remained a menace that should be dealt with."

"The first step was to take care of the SLDF and FWLN ships in orbit. She seems to have a competent Admiral, because as best we can tell they didn't have a huge advantage in numbers but the battle was pretty lopsided. We may need to upgrade our assessment of the Navy Royal."

"The more powerful the better, under the circumstances," Jack pointed out. "We're already propping up Rachel Davion and Callum Avellar. Detaching another fleet to support the Canopians and the Marians isn't something I'd be happy about having to do."

"Well it is our duty to consider possible threats, sir."

"Threat?" Jack shook his head. "Come on, Bond. We're talking about Savitri Centrella. The woman who gave us a complete duplicate of a Star League Memory Core after Samantha University got nuked flat, so we could rebuild. That woman has our back."

"It is TMI's job to consider all possible threats, Protector. Even the less likely ones."

"Daddy!"

Jack looked down at Sarah. "Yes Sara?"

"What happened next? At Tellman's Planet?"

"Oh, well, that's a good question. Mr. Bond?"

"Sir?"

"What did happen next at Tellman's Planet?"

"Ah. Well that was when Admiral Carrington sent a message back to Sharqah for the ground forces. But before they landed, she gave the Twentieth Division six hours notice to evacuate their bases before she levelled them with orbital strikes."

"That was nice of her," Beth observed. "So no one got hurt?"

"Close enough," Bond said. "With most of their supplies destroyed and the sky under the Navy's control, the Magistracy Army was able to decend en masse on isolated pockets with overwhelming numbers. They didn't land remotely as many regiments as the SLDF had but it really didn't matter. According to initial reports, at least half the Twentieth Division has been taken out and they've most likely finished mopping up by now."

"Well now," Jack grinned. "I'd love to see Ian Cameron's face when news of this reaches Terra. For that matter, Marion Marik's face should be a picture."

"Actually," Bond told him. "The Magestrix also informs us that Marion Marik appears to have been on Kanata when we arrived, so the Free Worlds League is currently being led by Ian Marik."

"Hmm. Pity. Marion was supposed to be one of the more reasonable Captain-Generals. I'm not sure how much we can expect from her son."

* * *

**The Forbidden City, Sian**

**Sian Commonality, Capellan Confederation**

**3 May 2577**

It was ironic. The Forbidden City of Sian had survived almost all the way through the four hundred and fifty odd years of history separating the current Star League from the Periphery. It was a cultural and political icon for the Capellan Confederation.

And then Elizabeth Jordan Liao decided she wasn't going to be taken alive by the multi-national force that had battered their way through the orbital defences to put an end to the terrorist attacks being perpetrated by the Maskirova in her name. One hundred megaton nuclear weapon later, the Forbidden City and leading elements of the Second Donegal Guards were part of Sian's irradiated atmosphere.

The climb up the steps to the central hall really hammered in to Babara Langmyr that she had travelled back in time. Standing somewhere that no longer existed in her era... it sent a tingle down her spine.

The interior of the hall was gold-trimmed jade, far darker than the equivalent chamber in the Crystal Palace. The throne that one day would have hosted the exalted rear-ends of such luminaries as Barbara Liao, Maximilian Liao and Elizabeth Jordan Liao was now occupied by an austere looking woman in her mid-twenties.

"Madame Chancellor," Langmyr offered, dropping to one knee. The soldiers spaced around the wall were another difference from the Crystal Palace. The Magestrix's security was more discreet. Unfortunately the Canopian diplomatic corp had been gutted by the temporal dislocation, with thousands of experienced personnel having been in foreign embassies that had, of course, remained behind.

The woman leant forwards, the subtle shadows cast by the lighting having previously disguised some of her features. Now, exposed more to light she was clearly recognisable as Ursula Liao. "Madame Ambassador. I am surprised to find that the Magistracy of Canopus is seeking representation at my court."

"Given the events of Christmas last year, the Magestrix believed opening an avenue of communication might be advisable."

"Ah yes. Perhaps then, Ambassador, you can explain why several dozen Capellan worlds are no longer acknowledging my borders?"

"Yes Chancellor, I can explain that." It wasn't as if the question was unexpected.

"Your explanation agrees with my other sources of information." Ursula had maintained a neutral expression throughout the explanation. "However, this still places me in a difficult position. Simply accepting the loss of such a large portion of my realm is hardly politically acceptable for me. When this situation is publicised, I will be placed under significant pressure to assist the SLDF in their invasions, to reclaim the lost worlds if nothing else."

Langmyr nodded calmly. "That would seem likely. Of course, such an invasion – pitted against our more advanced militaries – might not fare well, The loss of life would be a tragic waste. It is regrettable that the Star League's hostile position towards Canopus prevents us from offering some favourable treaty to compensate you for the inconvenience caused by the change in borders."

"Oh really?" Ursula seemed intrigued. "You seem quite proud of this advanced technology but my informants indicated that there had been a substantial period of technical stagnation and even regression."

"That's quite true, Chancellor. However, that followed a lengthy period of increasing levels of technology and we have improved even upon the levels achieved then. Tragic as wars might be, they do tend to inspire innovation. That, I suppose, would be the reason that the military clashes so far between the Star League and states we are referring to as 'uptimers' have gone so poorly."

"What can you offer me then."

"I have been authorised to offer you the future history of the Confederation. A considerably number of history texts, including specialist information on socioeconomics, that will let you and your advisors see the general path that the Capellan Confederation and by extension your neighbours took over the next four and a half centuries. It includes information on colonisable worlds within your borders – the Magestrix is conscious that by our arrival we have to some extent blocked off a possible direction of expansion. Who you share the information with is up to you."

She met the Chancellor's eyes evenly. "If the embargo insisted on by the Star League were no longer to be an issue, then the Magestrix would be glad to open trade between our nations. I am sure that we both have much to offer each other."

The Chancellor smiled slightly, the first sign of favour she had shown. "I must think more upon this, Ambassador. Suitable accommodation has been prepared for you. I will examine the books you have brought and consult my advisors. In the meantime, you are of course my honoured guest."

Langmyr bowed her head and retreated backwards down the hall, in full accordance with protocol.

Once the great doors were closed and she was sure that the ambassador was well out of earshot, Ursula gestured to one of the guards, who removed his helmet to reveal the face of the head of the Maskirova.

"You are quite sure that she can be kept from the Taurian emissaries?"

"Undoubtedly, your eminence." Her left-hand man had served in the Third Andurien War as a soldier before his more subtle talents found employment with the Maskirova. "May I enquire as to your impressions."

Ursula shrugged. "She is correct, of course. What she can offer us if trade opens will be very useful. But doing so would risk censure, perhaps even conflict, with our current allies. I see no need to act hastily."

* * *

**Golden Star Hotel, Cogdell**

**Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth**

**9 May 2577 (8 May 3032 local calendar)**

Cogdell didn't have much to recommend it to Rachel as a meeting place with her ancestor's emissary, except that it was a world that he wouldn't be familiar with since it hadn't been colonised until well into the Star League era.

Her theory – hope rather – was that speaking to him on a world verifiably not habitable in the twenty-sixth century would support her credibility. Cogdell had been surveyed and the terraforming techniques used on it were as yet unknown to anyone in the Star League.

And so she stood, wrapped in a heavy fur coat, in the winter winds of the planetary capital waiting for the helicopter carrying the representative of the First Prince. She was uncomfortably aware that the coat, which was more than just a little bulky, gave her somewhat the appearance of a small girl borrowing from her elder sister's wardrobe.

The down-draft from the helicopter drove cold air against her cheeks and for a moment Rachel wished she was in her BattleMech's cockpit. The baking heat of an alpha-strike would be a pleasant change from having her cheeks numbed. Rubbing at them with the cuff of one sleeve warmed them briefly and when she lowered her arm, she saw Henry Davion climbing out of the passenger door of the helicopter. His face was familiar to her, of course, since she had studied historical records of all the members of House Davion in this era.

Alexander's first son by his second wife. He'd be thirty-two now – five years in the AFFS and later represented New Avalon on the High Council until resigning his seat to join the Foreign Ministry. That was well after the Federated Suns had joined the Star League, so not fair to hold that against him but it was unlikely he opposed it, either.

"Lord Davion," she called out in greeting, raising her hand. His overcoat and business suit probably weren't best suited for this weather. "I'm Rachel Calderon-Davion-Gallagher. Welcome to Cogdell."

"Thank you," he said urbanely, although he kept his hands firmly buried in his coat pockets. "I don't mean to be a bad guest, but it is it always this cold here?"

"I don't know, it's the first time I've visited," she replied. "Why don't we step inside where it's warmer."

"Thank you," he said fervently and followed her through the revolving door that led from the helipad into the foyer that separated the upper floors of the hotel from the penthouse above.

The warm air hit them both in turn and Rachel opened up the front of her coat. "Before we deal with anything political, I'm going to have ask: are you particularly religious?"

"Well that's not a question that I expected to be fielding," Henry replied. "I've never felt the call to be more than communicant with the Church. Catholic, of course."

"I can work with that," Rachel said. "If any reporters ask you to comment on any religious matter, I strongly advise you to disclaim any expertise in the field. It's already a minor headache."

"How so?" asked the perplexed Henry.

"The Cardinal-Archbishop of Filtvet declared himself Pope on Easter Sunday."

"I see."

"Um, no you don't. It's technically legitimate: he's not claiming to be Pope of the Roman Catholic Church – although there are almost no Roman-Catholics in the March according to the last census. The problem is that he's legal head of the New Avalon Catholic Church and recruiting missionaries to bring the rest of the Federated Suns into line with the 'true forms of the church as laid down by Pope Thomas X'."

"The New Avalon Catholic Church? I take it that this is something I wouldn't know about it. Would you support such a... crusade?"

"No, but that probably won't stop him and I'm not only the most prominent member of the Church in the March, I generally take mass at his cathedral. He performed my wedding ceremony, which gives him a certain amount of political influence just by association." She shook her head. "Just don't throw any sparks on the oil. Neither of us needs the trouble it would make."

"Alright, I'll do that. Might I ask a question? You claimed descent from father in the letter, but we didn't get any details..."

"That's right. My father could trace unbroken male descent, father to son, all the way back to your older half-brother Vincent." Rachel smiled ruefully. "And before you ask, yes, I'm a Calderon on my mother's side of the family. Quite a distant cousin of the current Protector and specifically debarred from the succession following some negotatitions a few years ago. His daughters still call me Auntie Rache though."

Henry paused at the elevator door, politely allowing her to enter first while he considered the consequences of that not particularly subtle hint: Rachel was on close and presumably fond terms with the Taurian Protector. Not exactly ideal, given his mission, but not necessarily disasterous. "I suppose it's your turn to ask a question."

"You go ahead. I'm sure you have many more."

"What exactly was your status in the Federated Suns before last Christmas?"

She chuckled. "Oh, your father won't like this. My legal title is Arch-Duchess, which made me the fourth-ranking noble of the Federated Suns after the First Prince and the Arch-Dukes of New Syrtis and Robinson. The title of Arch-Duke is specifically limited to the noble head of a March, of which were seven including the Crucis March, and where competent the Arch-Duke also holds the offices of Minster and Marshal of their March. In essence, I had almost as much authority within the Periphery March as one of the Princes would have had before your father ended their independence."

"You're right." The doors to the elevator opened and Henry once again let Rachel take the lead, the two of them walking out into the penthouse foyer. "Father will not approve."

"And I can understand why. It's why the Marches are deliberately kept small and some thought was being given to further dividing the Capellan March. But that was then and this is now."

"I'll be honest: I'm here to try to persuade you to submit to the authority of New Avalon."

Rachel nodded. "I expected no less, Lord Davion. And I, through you, am going to try to convince your father to withdraw from the Star League before it all comes down on his head."

"Did that happen?"

"Not to your father, no. Once you've settled in, I'll tell you about what happened to John Davion though."

* * *

**High Orbit, Leximon**

**Lothian Worlds, Marian League**

**12 May 2577 (15 May 3032 local calendar)**

"There's no way I can persuade you to change your mind?"

The grey in Marcus O'Reilly's hair had long since spread from his temples until only strands of black remained. Losing his first wife to an assassin had hurt him, but losing a child and that child's mother to the vagaries of time itself had visually aged the Caesar of the Marian Hegemony, Lord-Regent of the Lothian Worlds, Count-Palatine of Illyria and in the eyes of a disturbingly sincere religious movement, a living incarnation of Zeus-Odin.

The woman on the other end of the video link was a little younger and wore the uniform of a FWLN captain, which would have rather surprised the hierarchy of that particular navy. "No Caesar, there is not. You have our gratitude for extending citizenship to those of the crew who have decided not to return to the League but we still have enough of a crew who want to make it back there that I've no intention of turning back."

She looked at him for a moment and then asked her own question: "Will you try to stop us?"

It was a pertinent question. After spending more than a year making lengthy repairs to their jumpdrive, FWLS _Harpy_ was preparing to leave the orbit of Leximon. Positioned in parallel orbit was the battleship MIS _Loretta Heart_, massing almost twice as much and well positioned to take the _Harpy_ under fire with her batteries of heavy naval particle cannon.

"I probably should." That was, if anything, an understatement. "You're probably the biggest conceivable source of information that I could hand to Ian Marik: navigational data, your own knowledge of my naval and military capabilities... can you even think of one reason that I shouldn't stop you from going back to the League and spilling all of that?"

"Put like that..." Grace Jones, Captain of the _Harpy_, shook her head. "Only one."

Marcus didn't respond other than raising one eyebrow slightly.

"You'll have to kill us to stop us," she said simply.

He nodded, believing her resolve. "I know. I hope Ian Marik deserves what he is getting. You would make a fine Roman, Captain Jones."

"You mean...?"

"I mean you have my permission to depart. I've sent word to all systems that the _Harpy_ has free transit of the Marian League until I say otherwise, which won't be until you've entered Marik space safely."

"If you don't mind my asking..."

"Why?" he asked. "You have proven honourable allies." That had been something of a surprise given that less than a decade before, a Free Worlds League invasion had had to be repelled but whoever said that politics made strange bedfellows had been onto something. "It is probably that in the future you will be among the ranks of my enemies. But I hope that you will be an honourable enemy, and House Marik prove itself an adversary with whom I can make peace."

Jones nodded her understanding and then hesitated a moment before offering him a Marian salute. "Ave Caesar."

A thin smile crossed his face and he returned her salute in the Marik fashion. "Be off with you, Captain. You have a long voyage ahead of you."

Fourteen hours and a hair over twenty-five light years away, as the _Harpy_ unfolded its jump sail to begin picking up free solar energy to charge its drives, Jones turned to Lieutenant-Commander Claudian bin Sahid. "Claude, we still have a separate, purgable memory core for sensitive data, don't we?"

"We do," he agreed hesitantly. He wasn't the original executive officer: that worthy had accepted a commission in the Marian Imperial Navy. "May I ask why?"

"I want you to move all navigation, military and intelligence data on the Marian League, its military, worlds and leaders to that database and overwrite the original locations in the main memory cores."

"Aye, captain. You're planning to purge that information."

"Yes. Oh, I'll no doubt be debriefed extensively as to what I remember, as will we all. But that will only provide a fraction of the information that the Free Worlds League would otherwise have."

"They'll court martial you, you know," bin Sahid pointed out.

"Until otherwise informed, the Marian League is an ally of the Free Worlds League. I will not betray an ally to a power whose intentions may be hostile," she said and then shrugged. "Besides, we may be allies again one day. Who knows? Are you going to stop me?"

Bin Sahid gave her an innocent look. "But Captain, that would be _mutiny_. They shoot people for that, you know?"

* * *

**High Orbit, Estuan**

**Pleiades Union, Taurian Concordat**

**14 May 2577 (15 May 3032 local calendar)**

The jump point defences had done their best but against eighty-two warships there was never much chance that they would managed to stop the assault force. They'd certainly managed to mark them up though: two of the warships left to guard the transport jumpships were clearly of limited combat value and the wreckage of three others, including a FSN Musketeer-class battlecruiser, was slowly drifting apart into a navigation target that someone was going to have to deal with.

That was just fine with Commodore Rukia Fukuda. By sheer chance none of the Taurian Concordat Navy's few admirals had been able to make it here yet since the HPG transmission warning of the invasion force had begun to circulate. What was bad luck for them was good luck for Rukia: not only had she been able to make it here with her battle group, built around four Hyades-class missile cruisers, but she had a thin edge of seniority over the other Commodores present. Which meant that unless one of the Admirals busted his rear getting here - fairly unlikely at this late stage – she was going to command a major fleet action, something that would look _very_ good on her record, next time the Protector was picking someone for promotion to Admiral.

"It's about time for the fighters to launch," she ordered, looking around the orderly bridge. On the monitors, she could see the apparently orderly lines of ships that would soon be converted into a chaotic jumble if the exercises she had experienced were anything to judge by.

Out on their final approach, the fusion torches of sixty four warships were lighting the way of the enemy as they arrived. Behind them, well behind, transport dropships were doing likewise, slowing even more rapidly. They and their previous cargos had no business in a serious fight. They wouldn't slow too much though. The warships would be trying to punch a hole in the defences for the dropships to make their landing through and they would need some of their inherent velocity to make use of it.

The fighters beginning to launch from the various ships of her force – and to rise from the surface – were going to make that difficult, as were the literally hundreds of gunships that formed part of Estuan's fixed defences. In theory a full fleet would field over eight thousand small craft but not even the TCN could man so many, yet, and the only carrier to respond was being held in reserve.

Still, there were a lot of them.

The enemy – it was shorter and more to the point than trying to differentiate FSN from SLDF at this point – was dividing their formation, she saw. A few warship – probably dedicated transports, were hanging back to cover the dropships. The rest were forming up into three walls: first the destroyers: heavily armed to punch aside the smaller Taurian warships. Behind them the enemy frigates, assault dropships and corvettes, poised to drive into any weakness that could be forced in her lines. And then, at the back, the cruisers and battleships and carriers that would strike the most decisive blow.

It was a formation that Rukia had studied but never actually seen. Some said the Hegemony had devised it based upon infantry tactics dating back to the Roman Republic. If so, it was about to become just as much of a piece of history as ancient Rome, because they were running headlong into something just a touch more up to date.

The first capital missiles from the SLDF destroyers began to streak ahead of the formation, their fighters holding back to provide coverage to the warships. Across the Taurian fleet, officers activated point defense systems and in many cases said quiet prayers that the equipment would function as well as it had in simulation.

The enemy destroyers were mostly Hegemony-built Barons and FedSuns Davions. The latter had no capital tubes while the former were firing only White Sharks, medium missiles that were sensibly being aimed at corvettes and cutters that might be vulnerable to take penetrating hits. However, very few of them made contact as heavy turrets turned and cannon designed for anti-shipping work instead spat out flak rounds that smashed missiles out of existence like birdshot against a quail.

Then the eight Hyades-class cruisers, including Rukia's own TCS _Brimstone_, all of which had turned sharply to unmask their broadsides. More than a few ships in the TCN had forward firing tubes, but Hyades were designed for exactly this and each could bring thirty-two missile tubes to bear on the oncoming destroyers.

The volley of missiles fired by the Taurians was far more numerous and most their missiles were what they called SantaAnas, a fifty-ton Killer Whale missile, each carrying a five hundred kiloton nuclear warhead. The Davion destroyers did sport rudimentary point defense lasers, but nothing approaching the efficient systems of the Taruians. The Barons, in contrast, had nothing of the sort.

Of the more than two hundred missiles fired, just over a third made contact with their targets. Twenty-four enemy destroyers out of the twenty-five in the first wave were killed – grossly _overkilled_ in fact – by the nuclear explosions that ripped through their hulls before they could fire more than a handful of shots.

On her command deck, Rukia nodded calmly despite the temptation to jump up and cheer like a school girl. "Very good. Now move on to stage two."

The Hyades, having slowed to fire off their broadsides, fell behind the main formation slightly as the less-specialised battlecruisers and cruisers moved up into the lead, their own drives flaring furiously as they lunged for the enemy's secondline, disdaining to even fire on the lone surviving destroyer as wings of gunships closed in on it.

One and a half million kilometres away from Estuan, a sudden burst of radiation was the only warning that the jumpship flotilla and their escorts had of the arrival of a new player: one large and two small warships.

It wasn't a close arrival: that would have been reckless in the extreme. But it was close enough for immediate detection and for panic to set in as the ships recognised that they were facing an imminent attack.

The fighter pilots launching from TCS _David Santos_' bays were, in contrast, not at all panicked. Most of them were young, few more than a few years out of flight school, and they were heading for their ancestral enemies: the armed forces of the Star League and the Federated Suns.

They were flying large, advanced fighters, almost all the squadrons were equipped with _Tomcat_ superiority fighters, rocket packs mounted on the hardpoints of their stubby wings. They didn't need more firepower than that to intimidate lightly protected jumpships and even the battleship SLS _Typhoon_, which could only launch a single wing of fighters to cover it and its charges, would have been be well advised to respect the menace.

A Taurian Unity-class carrier carried almost three _hundred_ aerospace fighters. Three-quarters of the _Santos_' onboard capacity descended upon the flotilla.

Commodore Robin Laws knew an untenable situation when he saw one, but he also knew his duty.

"Put me on general broadcast to all ships," he ordered bleakly. "And bring us around, I want an intercept course on that carrier."

"You're on general broadcast, sir," he was told as the aged battleship began to turn.

"All ships, this is flotilla command. Any jumpship which has not yet finished charging its jumpdrive is to set their drives to overload and then take to their lifeboats. Those jumpships that can jump, take onboard lifeboats as best you can and then jump for Naka Pabni. All warships of the escort force are to follow _Typhoon_. That is all."

"Sir." Major Giles Tewdor leant over quietly. "I'd be remiss not to point out that the _Typhoon_, _Archer_ and _April_ all have charged jump drives." The second-in-command of the battleship looked miserable, not afraid. "Standing orders from Army HQ are that in the face of overwhelming numbers, the priority is to preserve our forces."

"That is correct, Major. However, I see only three warships out there. We have five." Laws was mildly astonished that he managed to keep his face straight while including the lamed FSS _Markesan_ and SLS _Indus_ in his count of ships. The latter, a Davion-class destroyer, was hard-pressed to maintain a gravity of thrust and the Federated Suns carrier – the third ship of the entire armada to arrive in-system - had lost both flight-decks and most of her portside armament to a Taurian defense platform. Fortunately, she'd been able to launch almost all her wings first. "Added to the fact that the Taurian fighters will likely reach the jumpships before they can take all our lifeboats aboard, I rather think it will be necessary for us to provide a diversion."

"Of course, Commodore. Thank you for clarifying the situation for me."

It was an odd thing, Laws mused. Tewdor was actually more relaxed when he stepped away towards his position overseeing the gunnery team, than he had been. We're a funny group of people in the military, the Commodore concluded. More afraid of being thought cowards than we are of death itself.

"I rather think those fighters are going to be in range soon," he heard the Major say. "Let's see how they like a one ton autocannon shell through the canopy, eh?"

"It's all over but the shouting." General Troy Neville, AFFS, had first heard the saying from his father, commenting on a colleague's marriage. The colleague in question, a Major in the Syrtis Fusiliers, had walked out of his house and moved into Bachelor Officer Quarters that night. Neville's mother had ended the conversation before the ten-year-old Neville learned who the Major had found sharing his wife's bed.

A lifelong bachelor himself, Neville had never faced that particular humiliation. It could not conceivably be worse than that he felt on realising the consequences of the view out the window of the dropship carrying his command section and two companies of BattleMechs towards Estuan.

Outside the window, FSS _Lucien Davion_ was adrift. Looming behind the two blackened halves of what had been an Iron Duke-class battleship was another ship, one that was clearly still under powr. He didn't know what to call the class, but it was one of the ships responsible for the barrage of nuclear weapons that had shattered the fleet's frontline. The markings along the bow were legible.

TCS _Brimstone_.

"George," he called to his aide. "Spread the word. I want our databases purged. Then have the technicial staff pull the memory cores and destroy them. Magnets, heat... shoot the damn things if you have to. Hardcopies too. We may not have many choices left but we're not going to give the Taurians any information they don't already have."

Which, he did not have to say, must have included the details of their attack. To have dozens of warships arrive so quickly in response to the invasion force's presence would require either infernal luck or a traitor somewhere in the Task Force's staff. Neville knew what his money was on.

"We could pull key components out of the Mechs as well, sir." His aide was a sharp-minded young man – Neville thought that he could go far if he avoided making too many enemies.

"If we have time." The warship could obliterate them at any moment, of course, rendering the whole matter moot, but that it had refrained so far suggested very strongly that it would not. No, they'd want prisoners, captured equipment and information. "Get on with it. I'll have the captain relay word to the other ships."

"Oh, and George?"

The leftenant paused on the threshold. "Sir?"

"Make sure the regimental colours are burned."

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**15 May 2577 (14 May 3032 local calendar)**

"Payback's a bitch," Jack Calderon said out loud and then belatedly checked his office to make sure none of his children were in the room to learn the bad language. They'd undoubtled learn enough from their peers without his contributing.

Concluding that he was in the clear he pressed a button on his desk and a portrait on the wall slid down as the wires holding it up spooled out. The mechanism was supposed to ease cleaning the ancient oil portrait of Mitchell Calderon, but it also now revealed a life-sized head-and-shoulders photograph of the Terran Hegemony's Director General.

Jack reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, produced a toy gun and proceeded to amuse himself by bouncing rubber darts off the face of Ian Calderon.

When his ammunition was exhausted, the Protector raised the portrait up to mask his concealed target and gathered up his ammunition, reloading the 'weapon' before putting it back in the drawer and going back to his actual job.

The media didn't have the full report yet, although it was too juicy not to get leaked. Rukia Fukuda had requested the Taurian Brand for the crews of the corvettes and cutters that had bird-dogged much heavier SLN ships, drawing fire and delaying them so that they could not escape the systematic destruction being dealt out by the heavier Taurian cruisers. Fourteen ships had been destroyed entirely and nine crippled to the point they might not be worth the time or expense of repairing.

For a victory on this scale – out of eighty-two warships only four had fought their way to pirate jump-points and escaped – Jack felt that that was too modest. Barring strong objections, he intended to award the crews of every ship that participated the Brand, and would personally pin the Concordat Sunburst to Commodore Fukuda once she'd sweated out the After Action Review in the teeth of all three available Admirals.

Nor were the lopsided numbers for the warship losses the full story, of course. Fully a third of the jumpships that had brought the invasion force had been abandoned and destroyed, which would cripple SLDF operations for months or even years, and of course, more than fifty regiments of SLDF and AFFS soldiers were being landed, a few at a time, in preparation for internment.

Their equipment would no doubt find a welcome home in many a planetary militia, but the morale boost of the victory would be even more valuable. It dwarfed the historical victory of Tentativa and gave ample proof to the people of the Concordat – and to all their allies – that the SLDF could be beaten.

"Today, is a good day."

* * *

**Golden Star Hotel, Cogdell**

**Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth**

**16 May 2577 (15 May 3032 local calendar**

It was difficult to keep a secret.

In this case, it was something that Rachel supposed that in justice she ought to tell Henry Davion. She liked the man and it felt wrong to keep news from him, but that was no justification for letting the Star League know about the HPGs.

And there was no reasonable way that even a 'pony express' of jumpship couriers would have made it to Cogdell from Estuan in just two days.

As a result she made sure she was securely locked up in her suite before putting together a formal acceptance of Jack Calderon's request that she handle the Prisoner of War captured as a result of the battle. Where she'd put nearly twenty thousand disarmed military personnel she wasn't sure, but there was no denying that they would be safer under her protection than they would be in the Concordat.

Taurians had long memories, and little fondness for the SLDF or the AFFS. The risk of... incidents, was not a trival one.

It was best, she felt, not to let Henry Davion not know the vengeance that his countrymen might face for crimes they had not yet and might never commit.

"I'll be honest," she told him instead. "I've tested the waters a little – surveys on the street, straw polls among local legislatures, nothing formal – and there's surprisingly little enthusiasm among most of my populace for rejoining the Federated Suns."

"I'm rather disappointed." Henry glanced out the window over the city. "You seem to be ruling a fairly prosperous region – at least from what little I've seen of it. I wouldn't have thought there was serious discontent."

"Oh, there isn't. It's rather embarrassing but from their point of view, the only Davion who's done much for them in the last few centuries is... well, me. From their point of view, they already have the Davion they want."

Henry's expression conveyed the considerable sincerity of a professional diplomat: "There's no question that any arrangement we might reach will include recognition of your title as Arch-duchess as long it's compatible with the government of... no?"

Rachel shook her head. "A surprising number seem to feel that New Avalon has a history of neglecting them. And then of course there are the vocal and extreme minorities."

"Oh let me guess. Some of them think that you should replace my father on the throne?"

"A few, yes. Most oppose that simply because I'm 'their' Davion and they prefer I be closer to home. The more informed, of course, realise that it would be logistically impossible for me to conquer the Suns."

"Of course."

"New Avalon, perhaps, but as Prince Alexander found out in his youth, control of the capital is not the same as control of the entire state." She smiled sadly. "The same reasons that my March could be of great benefit to the Federated Suns make me a credible threat: scores of factories producing some of the most modern military equipment of the thirty-first century. You saw the troops on parade yesterday: what did you think of their equipment?"

"It seemed a little light, for what I assume to be your household troops but... yes, I take your point. Almost all of it was fairly new."

"Henry... those were the planetary militia."

He whistled. "That's a lot of militia... twenty regiments or so?"

"Eight infantry, four armoured and a single 'Mech regiment. Admittedly our regiments are rather larger than the Star League's standard."

"Why in the worlds would you have over two hundred BattleMechs in local troops? Were you planning a revolt against your own First Prince?" He realised it was a stupid question the minute he asked it, but Rachel laughed.

"Against Uncle Hanse? I'd never have the nerve. No, we had a pirate problem when I first took over. And a, ahem, 'pirate' problem."

"They're still doing that?" Pirate bands were the traditional deniable assets of all the major states.

"Unfortunately, yes. That dodge never seems to get old. But with a militia like this? Pirates may check in but they _never_ check out again."

"I appreciate the sentiment." Henry was too canny to lick his lips or allow himself any other telltales of feeling nervous. "However, given my father's history with overly powerful principalities there would be the concern that your children or grandchildren might include another Dimitri Rostov or David Varnay. I really can't see him – or my brother Vincent, for that matter, agreeing to leaving you or your heirs with the option of mobilising a private army of more than forty regiments of BattleMechs."

"What do you want me to do, disarm them?"

Henry nodded silently.

"You..." Rachel shook her head. "Those regiments are their protection. The defences that they can rely when the AFFS regulars and the March Militia are called away to fight the Kuritas or the Mariks."

"We're all in the Star League now, so that really isn't very likely."

"Remind me to tell you about the War of Davion Succession." She stood, straightening her jacket. "Even if I was willing to betray them like that, I simply couldn't. They'd vote with those guns. And I'm not fool enough to end up like Gregory Amaris."

* * *

**House of Government, Atreus**

**Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League**

**25 May 2577**

Facing Parliament was not entirely outside Ortega's experience, although this time she didn't see any of the familiar faces she had seen during her previous career. There were also many fewer of them, only two hundred representatives rather than the five hundred she was used to, seated in an entirely different chamber of the sprawling complex of buildings from which the Free Worlds League was ruled.

It was particularly uncanny to realise that the man at the head of the Oriente delegation must be an Allison, the founding House of the Duchy. Their line had ended during the Second Succesion War, replaced with the House Halas that she was familiar with.

Then again, she must be almost as alien to them. Instinctively she compared the suits being worn beneath the purple tunics of the Members of Parliament to her own and noted she was out of step with current fashions. Would she wind up adjusting her wardrobe to match them or would she set a new trend?

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Parliament, the honourable Jacquelynn Ortega, of late Ambassador of the Free Worlds to the Court of Canopus." Ian Marik directed a reassuring smile to her as he directed her to take the floor.

"Honorable Members of Parliament," she began. "I have been asked to speak here by two people. Firstly, by Duke Brion Marik, who wishes me to acquaint you all with the capabilities of the Magistracy of Canopus. And secondly, by Magestrix Savitri Centralla, who desires that you should know the character of Canopus."

"The history of Canopus spans some five hundred years. For two centuries, as they see it, they were shackled by the Star League: conquered, subjected to rule by a military governor and when that was removed, granted voice but no vote within the Star League Council. It would be remiss of me to say that no good was done for Canopus by the Star League: they themselves have particularly honoured Captain-General Marion Marik for refraining from the atrocities that would mark the subjugation of the other Periphery realms and Duchess Melissa Humphreys, their first military governor for endeavouring to provide a fair and even handed administration."

"However, nor can it be denied that they were a conquered and exploited province. That their liberties were taken from them by force. That the Star League Council levied extraordinary taxation upon them in order to fund their own military build-ups. That their economies and even the ecologies of their colonies were left dependent upon the Terran Hegemony for critical technologies that could be withdrawn at any time."

"And so they know, bone-deep, each and every one of them, that the Star League fell far short of its high ideals. In my own lifetime, I have seen them wage war furiously for their independence and that of their allies. I have also seen them go to enormous lengths to spare and save human lives. The Magistracy has, in my own lifetime, gone from being an impoverished frontier state, barely protecting itself from pirates, to an industrial and technological powerhouse closely comparable to the Terran Hegemony in this day and age."

"Duke Brion asked me to draw your particular attention to the Canopian Navy Royal. I am sure that you were all previously advised of the Magistracy's Navy as being a handful of foreign-built corvettes, vastly out-numbered and out-classed by the ships of the Free Worlds League. The Magistracy you are familiar with can deploy seventeen regiments of BattleMechs, many of the mercenaries. This is not what you are now facing."

"The Magistracy that I know can field more than sixty BattleMech regiments, supported by over one hundred and fifty conventional regiments. Their navy is made up of at least twenty modern cruisers and fifty pocket battlecruisers with no less than four first class battleships. They have no less than four major shipyards, one of which Duke Marik and I have personally observed to be constructing a further twenty cruisers."

"And that is not the true strength of Canopus. It is an open secret that their navy was being built up to counter the otherwise unassailable naval power of Taurus. Nor is it any secret that this extraordinary investment in their military was paid for by the export of their unparalleled medical expertise. The Canopian medical establishment have devised an admittedly expensive means of retarding and to a limited degree even reversing the aging process."

There was an incredulous silence and she could almost hear them thinking that she couldn't really have said that.

"I assure you that this is the complete and literal truth. There is a treatment, available only from the Magistracy of Canopus, that can extend the human life expectancy to well over two centuries. The wealth of nations has poured into Canopus and they have used that wealth to import from us and the rest of the Inner Sphere, whatever they wanted. The result, for Canopus and for all their trading partners, was an incredible rise in commerce and by extension of tax revenues."

"The Magestrix, before I left, asked me to pass on the following message: 'remember the rich reward of those who cut open their golden goose'."

* * *

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**26 May 2577**

Ian Cameron was no stranger to adversity. Marriage, fatherhood and a highly successful military career had made up an early life that could hardly be considered free of challenges. Then, half of his lifetime ago, an assassin's bullet had pushed him into politics and the rule of a nation.

Not since Joseph's murder had he felt so shattered by events.

Somehow the Periphery had leapt forward dramatically in power and in presence. Years of diplomacy and of careful preparation for war had been flushed away. And the only explanation that was being presented for this extraordinary event was one right out of a bad holovid.

Dozens of astrophysicists and other theorists had been called in to consider the information sent to him by the Captain-General, Chancellor and now First Prince. None had been able to explain how such a thing could happen, at least not in words that made any sense to him.

The reports from Amos Forlough and Charles Wexworth were at least more intelligible, if not at all palatable. The Outworlds Alliance was putting up more resistance than expected, with II Corps having lost half a division while securing only one world and a foothold on a second. He could almost feel Forlough's frustration: faulty intelligence and an opponent that he couldn't come to grips with. There was a temptation to replace him with someone more flexible but no real justification for doing so.

The lack of any reports from what was left of VII Corps told its own tale. No news was most assuredly _not_ good news, but at least he could hold out some faint hope there.

Not with Wexworth. Whatever his other faults, the General had made no efforts to spare himself in recounting the disasterous Battle of Estuan. Literally half the Federated Suns' warships had been lost in the battle, leaving their navy essentially out of action for the next few years, and dozens of SLDF ships had also been lost. The fate of the Federated Suns Auxiliary Corps and the SLDF's Sixteenth and Eighteenth Divisions remained unknown.

The good news was that following reports from spyships sent into Taurian space, Wexworth had concluded that the number of warships picked up on patrol precluded launching the other two proposed attacks. That decision had undoubtedly prevented the destruction of another four divisions and their escorts.

"What do you think?" he asked his wife as Shandra finally set aside the analysis of Wexworth's reports.

She grimaced. "I think the public is going to be demanding someone's head on a platter. More to the point, so will Alexander Davion and you're going to need his support badly."

"I was hoping for a more concrete suggestion, which isn't to say you're wrong," he admitted.

"Well, in that case, I think that General Kincaid's recommendation makes a lot of sense."

Ian blinked and paged back through his copy of the report. "Pull the Aegis-class back into service? Shandra, those hulks were retired almost forty years ago. And the Quixote frigates was a white elephant from the beginning."

"That's true, but they're two of the most common ships in the reserves and the Quixotes are built around massed missile attacks, which is exactly what the Taurians are using against us," she pointed out. "Forlough is crying out for heavy ships to counter the Outworlders and reconditioning, say, twenty of each for him would be a matter of weeks. How long would it take to build him those cruisers? I can promise you that we're not going to be able to pull them off any of the other fronts."

"I see. We could offer a few to Ian and Alexander as well, to make good some of their losses."

"Agreed." Shandra looked at her notes. "We're going to have to tie up our dockyards refitting the rest of them with better anti-missile defences though. Going up against the Taurians without that is tantamount to suicide."

Ian nodded. "That's not as much of a problem as it might be. Our designers will need to reconsider what we're building anyway and make alterations. Let's concentrate on getting Aegis cruisers repaired for Forlough and to restore the national fleets to full numbers. That'll give us time to get the Titan yards cleared to carry out serious refits of the Quixote. We'll want to be able to provide Wexworth or whoever is in charge there by then with a substantial number."

"I don't recommend replacing him. Talk to Carlos if you want..."

"I already have." Ian lowered the report and walked over to the window. The evening sun was painting the half-finished buildings in ruddy hues. "I'm not going to relieve him now. But if we have another disaster like this one..."

"Should we proceed at all?"

"What!" he exclaimed, turning around sharply. "You can't possibly mean..."

His wife stretched lightly in her chair, unfazed by his explosive response. "We spent years of diplomacy trying to bring the contemporary periphery states into the League before we resorted to military action. The battles so far have been localised. Maybe we should back off and approach them diplomatically again. They're larger and wealthier now: they'd be enormously more valuable to the League as members, and they've also had more time to mature, to see the benefits."

"There are two groups who'd have to be convinced that, Shandra. Firstly the Star League Council and secondly the Periphery Lords themselves. Whether we like it or not, this is not like Bloody Santiago or Malagrotta... the first Malagrotta."

"No. It isn't. But do you honestly think we can push on with attacks on Canopus or Taurus right now? VII Corps was our strongest single corps and it's completely gone. VI Corps is a shell. If either of them goes on the offensive, we're going to be hard-pressed to stop them. At worst, talking buys us time."

"And at best?"

"At best, divide and conquer. It's pretty clear that the new Outworlds Alliance is not the strongest of them and they're out and exposed. So we can discreetly keep up a little pressure there, Lord Kurita will hardly complain about that. And while we're building up our forces... well, think about who didn't get brought back in time."

Ian nodded slowly. "The Rim Worlds."

"Exactly. Gregory Amaris is a toad, but he's our toad. And besides which, there is an SLDF garrison on Apollo."

"Yes. And bringing the Republic into the Star League would have some significant economic and political advantages. Viola is already one of our strongest allies on the Council. Restoring the Rim Worlds as a source of cheap goods for the Lyran economy – and to some extent, the Combine and the Free Worlds League will benefit too."

Shandra nodded encouragingly. "And a propaganda triumph as one of the periphery states enters the Star League will do wonders for morale."

"You're right. Forlough wants ships more than he wants men. Giving some of the Aegis cruisers and priority for replacements will keep him happy, without giving him the resources to get reckless. Meanwhile we can send the VIII Corps that we were assembling, reinforced with Auxiliaries from the Lyrans and Draconians to bring the Rim Worlds under our control." He sat down again. "It's one hell of a way to win a..."

"Ian?" His wife walked over to stand next to him.

"I was going to say, one hell of a way to win a war," he said soberly. "But this isn't just any war, is it?"

"It's going to be terrible," she agreed. "You remember what they called the First World War? Back before the Second one?"

He searched his memory. "The Great War?"

"The War-To-End-All-Wars." Shandra rested one hand on his shoulder. "That's what we're fighting for, Ian. To make this the last war."

* * *

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Rim Worlds Republic**

**1 June 2577**

"We're not alone."

"What?" Jerric looked up from where he was reviewing the minutes of the Constitutional Convention.

"I sent a couple of Ranger teams into the Commonwealth and the Combine to get a feel for how reliable our information on them," Charlotte told him. "They just reported back. Apparently the entire Star League is in a panic over losing contact with dozens of worlds across the rimwards regions of the Inner Sphere. Care to guess where the line is drawn?"

"Ah... the old Taurian-Andurien border with the League and the Suns."

"Give yourself a prize," Charlotte agreed disgustedly. "The Taurians, the Canopians, the Periphery March of the Federated Suns, and probably a good number of the small fry that hover around them. The Star League is trying to keep it quiet, but my best guess is that they sent a probing attack across the line and got their groin kicked rather brutally."

Jerric thought for a moment about the best estimates of the military capability of the Star League compared to the more advanced weapons that the Oberon Confederation could field and then applied that to the rather larger armies of the rimwards periphery. His expression said it all.

"Exactly. Which means the Star League is going to be reacting to them and not just us. Which could be really good or really bad. They have to know that something strange is happening which means that they'll be looking for us."

"But on the flip side," he offered, "They can't focus all that many resources against us when they have those three... is it three? Are the Outworlds there?"

"I don't know, reports are mixed. But either way, our ability to predict what they're up to just collapsed." She sank into a chair, apparently feeling more than her relatively modest age. "Please tell me you have some good news?"

"It's a bit mixed," Jerric admitted.

"That means some of it is good. Spill," his wife ordered imperiously.

The duke (who would probably never see his duchy again, due to the distance and the fact his branch of House Davion didn't exist yet to have it granted to them) rubbed his temples. "The good news is that without Gregory Amaris' remaining authority as First Consul, there is a pretty solid base of support for rejecting the Star League. The regiments that are still accepting orders from Apollo are preparing to move to the border and resist invasion."

"What about their ships?"

"Those that are in operation are doing the same, but honestly almost half their fleet needs serious work. I've offered on your behalf the use of our yards to repair and upgrade them." There was a note of challenge in his voice.

"That's somewhat in excess of the authority I granted you." Charlotte was smiling though. "Did they agree?"

Jerric nodded.

"Then well done. I'll give the necessary orders." She stretched, cat-like. "What about the bad news?"

"Weeeelll," he told her, drawing the word out teasingly. "They're still arguing about just about everything else."

"Oh dear Omnipotent Being that sent us here, why didn't I just conquer this place?"

Her husband rolled his eyes. Charlotte's 'religion' for want of a better word seemed to be congealing around the idea of an unnamed but selectively malevolent deity. It was probably going to offend someone someday. "Because you need the manpower?"

"There is that. Perhaps..." Charlotte frowned in thought. "Hmm, how many of the more... vocal personalities are from Timbuktu? Or Finmark for that matter?"

"A few." Jerric thought a moment, matching names to homeworlds. "Perhaps more than a few. They're further from their planetary governments, less directly accountable. Why?"

"Two-thirds of the rebel regiments were posted there. They're a long way from Apollo, the RRA was fairly strong in those provinces and I don't think they grasp how important a strong government will be." The queen pursed her lips in thought for a moment. "Work on the delegates from worlds near Apollo. See if you can get them to agree on a single plan. I'll let it be known that I'm considering excluding a few of the worlds with more awkward representative from the new Republic, whatever form it takes. That should bring in the moderates."

"Would you? It would leave them swinging in the breeze when the League invades, you know."

"They'll bleed as well fighting for their homes as they will fighting for us," Charlotte pointed out coldly. "And start thinking about a confederation of cantons, each with its own government structure but tied together by mutual defence and trade."

"That sounds awfully like the five principalities... which ended up in Civil War. In living memory, actually, in this day and age."

"Well if memory serves, the Davions made it work for a couple of generations. If it doesn't work, Hendrik and his children will just have to think of something else."

Jerric conceded the point although he couldn't avoid one last word: "You're prolonged, dear. It could easily still be your problem a hundred years from now."

* * *

**Crystal Palace, Crimson**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**3 June 2577 (2 June 3032 local calendar)**

There was no pacing around the Central Committee Chamber for the Magestrix this time. The Committee was in full, formal meeting with the Crimson Council occupying their modest box to the right of her throne and her senior advisors mirroring them to her left.

"The proposal before the Committee is that our calendar be regularised with that of the Inner Sphere." She checked the notes in her hand. "The recommendation of the Magestrix, following consultation with affected parties, is that the thirty-first day of December 3032 be omitted from the calendar, proceeding instead from the thirtieth directly to the first of January of next year, to be officially recorded as 2578."

The representative of New Abilene stood, requesting permission to speak. Jasmine Cullen's homeworld had been among those ravaged by Capellan mercenaries twelve years ago and the Secretariat of Immigration strongly advised colonists from the former Capellan Confederation not to seek permission to settle on the world. "Why should we conform to the Inner Sphere," she demanded. "We've four hundred years of seniority over them, should they not be the ones adapting to us?"

"I regret to say, Ms. Cullen, that the Star League will no doubt adapt to our presence sooner than I would like." Savitri scanned the benches opposite the representative of New Abilene and marked out a possibility. "Ms. Wujick, would you like to respond?"

The native of Vakarel, who had been shifting irritably in her seat, shot to her feet. "Thank you, Magestrix, I would be glad to. What the honourably lady from New Abilene appears to have forgotten is that the economy of Canopus is built around trade with the Inner Sphere. A substantial fraction of our workforce manufacture goods for sale abroad or require components not currently available within the Magistracy. While this dependency has been reduced somewhat in recent years, many companies have been left in dire financial straits by the loss of their markets or suppliers."

"The Magistrix has generously subsidised efforts to retool to cover the gaps but unless trade resumes soon we are facing a severe recession. Aligning our national calendar with that of the Inner Sphere will ease co-ordination of shipping schedules and communication with the foreign markets that we need in order to survive."

"If you're concerned about national pride, ask yourself how many of your people even care about the national calendar? The planetary calendar, which most of your people actually live by, won't need to change at all."

"Thank you, Ms. Wujick," Savitri interjected smoothly, before the woman could continue her argument. She made a mental note to keep an eye on the woman, there was no such thing as having too many Committee representatives aligned with the government. "I would add that while government reserves are substantial, they are not limitless and a large portion of our foreign currency are now worthless, since the Star League is not currently accepting the Eagles or Ryu that we had banked. Fortunately sufficient of the Federated Suns survives that the Kroner-Pound is still viable, if rather devalued."

"Fortunately, Ambassador Langmyr has been doing sterling work on Sian and the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation has decreed – very discreetly – that as she does not relinquish her historical claims upon Andurien, she will regard all trade across that boundary as being internal to the Capellan Confederation. There are some slight complications, in that she will require all trade to be in Yuan until a trade delegation from the Capella Commonality Bank has visited and established what strength they can ascribe to the Canopian dollar but there is reasonable hope that this may be accomplished with a minimum of friction."

The deal had also included an under-the-table bribe – the delegation would be largely made up of noble scions in their early twenties, ideally aged to receive prolong treatment – but Savitri didn't see any point in publicizing that.

"In the interests of restoring our foreign trading links," she said instead, "I ask for a vote on the calendar issue. Six months should be more than long enough for our record keeping to be made ready for the change."

There being no objection, a quick electronic ballot passed the motion. Democracy in action, but it was better than the alternative. The Committee couldn't propose legislation, which didn't stop the representatives forwarding petitions to her as private individuals...

Still, it was better than the Federated Suns. From what she'd heard from Rachel when they were younger and considerably more optimistic, the High Council of the Federated Suns gathered once a year, voted unanimously to approve whatever the First Prince had decreed through the year and proceeded to get drunk at said Prince's expense. It was probably an exaggeration. Probably.

"The next motion I would like to place before the committee is a declaration of war against the Star League."

There was a ripple of confusion in the chamber.

Ms. Wujick stood. "Uh, Magestrix. Aren't we already at war? I mean, you've already invaded the Free Worlds League."

Savitri's smile was toothy. "That was a mere defensive action. It's not as if we had any objectives on Tellman's Mistake other than the removal of the Twentieth Division. With that done, our borders are secure and we could, in theory, stand back for a few years."

"But that's not your intention, is it?"

Shaking her head, the Magestrix replied: "After that point, the Star League Defense Force will be back. They will be prepared for us and pose a far more significant threat than ever. Make no mistake, the Pollux Proclaimation makes no room for compromise. So long as it exists, the Star League consitutes a long term threat to our independence."

"There are options here," she admitted. "We could, as I indicated, take a defensive position. However, that didn't work out very well for Crystalla Centrella. I see no reason to believe that it would go any better for us in the long run, other than to draw out the war."

"There is also a reasonable chance that the Magistracy could seek to enter the Star League as an equal member, with voice and status equal to any of the others. Given the choice between admitting Canopus or conquering it, I think it is fair to say that a majority of the Star League Council would vote in favour of such a petition." Savitri removed the tiara upon her head, holding it above her lap in both hands. "If that is the desire of the Central Committee, however, then you will need to find a new Magestrix."

Seeing no takers she replaced the tiara upon her ebon locks, not realising that it was at a slight but jaunty angle. "We didn't beat the Free Worlds League by sitting back here on our plush chairs and waiting to be attacked. If we're going to break the Star League then we must take the offensive. That's not popular with the electorate, I know, but it's rather an improvement over having the battles of this war waged on Canopian soil."

Archibald McCarron cleared his throat. "Perhaps you could be more specific," he suggested from his place among the other senior military and civil officials.

Savitri nodded. "I have been contacted by Protector Calderon, as have the rulers of every state that has been cast back in time. He is inviting us to join the Taurian Concordat and every other willing ally in the endeavour of bring the Star League apart. To do this, we must take the war to them."

"I have not yet sent my response, because first I would have your approval." She stood. "If I may?"

Unsurprisingly, there was no objection. She folded her hands behind her back and took a deep breath.

"We shall not bow to the tyranny of Terra. We shall not grovel to the past when we may freely choose the future. We shall never rest until the boots that they would place upon our necks have been jammed down their throats. To this we pledge our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honour."

No one could ever say where the applause began, but it went on and on as the men and women in the chamber and in the viewing galleries rose to their feet in approval of their leader and the beginnings of tears glittered in the corners of her eyes.


	6. Book Two, Chapter One

Book Two:

Crises in Chorus

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, Trznadel Cluster**

**Luxen District, Magistracy of Canopus**

**7 July 2577 (5 April 3032 local calendar)**

Stirring music was on what seemed like every radio channel as one by one the great ships powered up their engines and slowly exited the yardslips where they had been built, running lights glittering.

They were far from the first ships to be completed at the Canopian Navy Royal's private shipyards, not even the first of their class. But they were the centrepiece of single largest mass launch ceremony to take place since the foundation of the yards – in number and in, well, mass.

There were forty of the Canopus-class cruisers, each massing more than three-quarters of a million tons. They weren't the most sophisticated ships on the drawing boards, but they were advanced enough, economical enough and large enough to do most of what was being asked of them. A compromise, like most military vessels.

A short distance away, part of the perimeter of vessels – mostly dropships – positioned to ward off civilian and media craft trying to advance dangerously close, the _Poison Ivy_ looked like a minnow in comparison and her crew were getting a first-hand look at what was protecting their homes.

"What behemoths," Osami observed, double-checking trajectories to ensure none of the cruisers would pass too close to the perimeter. Even the lightest collision involving such mass could be devastating and just to complicate matters, the organisers had requested that each ship be 'greeted' by its two escorting dropships as it finished leaving the slip.

"You're not wrong," agreed Captain Margaid Chon from behind the navigator's station. "I've seen bigger, but not all in one place like this."

Mela chuckled from her chair. "Is it giving you a nice, warm feeling, captain? I'm sure the Navy Royal would give you one if you asked nicely."

"Not without attaching a few strings." Margaid decided not to mention the letter she'd received a few weeks before, offering her a command – class of vessel unspecified – if she completed a twelve month transition course at Canopus Staff College. The Canopian Navy Royal wasn't hurting for trained spacers – yet - but it was of the firm opinion that an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

"Well they probably lost the offer in the post then," Mela told her. "The way the recruiters are sniffing around the bars when I take liberty makes me wonder if I should start looking out for press gangs."

Sara Volkman cleared her throat. "This probably isn't the ideal moment, captain, but..."

"But...?" This couldn't be good news.

The engineer gestured towards one of the points of light that the _Ivy_'s sensors identified as HMS _Argentinosaur_. "I'm hereby giving you my twenty days notice of resignation, ma'am. I'll be reporting aboard the _Argentinosaur_ as second engineer on the first of next month."

That took a moment to sink into Margaid's brain and thus it was Mela who spoke first. "Are you nuts? Volunteering to work on a ship that you _know_ is going to be shot at? Worse, one named for a dinosaur! You do know those things are extinct, don't you?"

"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal," Osami muttered. Sara looked stricken and the navigator verbally back-pedalled hastily. "It's a joke, from that holovid series they've been repeating – the one about the tramp freighter after the old Reunification War? There's a guy with these plastic dinosaurs..."

"Fascinating as your holovid habits are, Ms Hayagawa, I believe Ms. Volkmann's decision to leave the crew takes precedence," Margaid told her drily. "I have, of course, no means of obstructing you, Sara," the captain lied, "But I'm curious as to your reasons."

The engineer hesitated, appearing looking uncomfortable with what she was about to admit. "I guess they go to me. I mean, we're all proud to be Canopians -" (Out or courtesy she elected not to add 'especially Mela' to that.) "- but the Navy Royal take it to a new level. They act like the Magistracy is a flock of sheep that they're guarding and that every triumph is theirs because they kept the rest of us safe for it to happen."

"Which is more or less true," conceded Margaid. A veritable swarm of dropships was always hard at work around the Trznadel Cluster but not all of them were freighters or mining vessels. The ubiquitous traffic masked the movement of assault dropships like that which ahd welcomed them to the Magistracy months ago, dozens of which were always on patrol. From what she had learned, any system with pretensions to being near the borders of the Magistracy had at least one such ship on patrol to carry out ad hoc customs inspections and deter pirates.

Sara nodded. "It reminds me of why we took the job to go see what we could smuggle back across the border last year. We weren't just proud of Canopus, we were _responsible_ for it." She spread her hands. "I liked that feeling and I want it back. Much as I love the _Ivy_, I won't get that here."

Margard cut off Mela with a raised hand before she could say anything snide. Then the captain took advantage of the zero gravity to drift upwards to kiss the rather taller Sara on the forehead. "Go with our blessing," the surprised engineer heard her say. "But rememher that you also have a home here amongst us."

* * *

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**7 July 2577**

There were more white hairs in Henry's father's hair than he remembered from before he left. More lines upon his face also.

Nonetheless, there was still vigour in the First Prince's movements as he rose to greet his son. "Welcome back," he said warmly and gestured for the new arrival to join his brother and nephew. With the Royal Court soon to begin, the Prince-Imperial Vincent Davion looked almost as frazzled as their father – responsibility for the administration of the government falling largely upon his broad shoulders, so only Vincent's son Ian, wearing the uniform of the Davion Guards looked rested. Henry – himself having served with the same First Guards regiment – suspected youth rather than indolence was responsible for that: the Guards would be performing an extensive number of ceremonial duties in the following weeks and rehearsals would no doubt be gruelling.

"Welcome back, Uncle Henry." The youngest Davion present offered his hand with more confidence than the somewhat high-strung teenager he had been would have. The AFFS was doing well by him: a good thing, since he would be serving with it for at least another three years.

"It's good to be back." Henry looked out of the window at the spring-skies of New Avalon. "Cogdell – that's the world she decided to meet me on – has vile winters."

"Cogdell?" Vincent frowned in thought. "A later colony, I presume. Wouldn't make sense for them not to have expanded over four hundred years. Did you get any idea how large her March actually is?"

Henry took a seat, crossing his legs. "She's fairly cagey about that – not much further out in volume of space than our own borders were, I gather, but a greater density of habitable worlds within it. There are certainly systems out there though. From the trading distances she has an ally – Tortuga – around seven hundred light years out from Terra. An interstellar state, although one of relatively recent formation – their generation's Outworlds Alliance perhaps."

Alexander growled, deep in his throat. "We don't know how far back the Taurians stretch out beyond the worlds we know of. We've got the tiger by the tail and it's already taken a bite."

Henry nodded. "Estuan. It was reported on Cogdell, although how reliably I couldn't say."

"I hope that they were suitably upset at the mauling that we took."

"They... weren't happy. I wouldn't say that they were entirely sympathetic either. How bad was it, really?"

"We've effectively lost the entire Corps of troops we loaned to the Star League Defense Force," Ian burst out. "Barely any ships escaped."

"That bad?"

"Half the Navy's warships were at Estuan and none of them made it out," his father told him bitterly. "Ways and Means are already screaming like stuck pigs at what it's going to cost us to rebuild from that."

It was tempting to say something inane such as 'that's bad' but Henry refrained. "More or less what I heard. If it's any consolation, reports are that the Taurians were treating the prisoners well... ah, apparently at some point the Ares Conventions are resurrected and the Concordat signed them this time around. There are a few minor alterations, but in general..."

"Surprisingly decent of them given that Cameron rescinded the Conventions last year," noted his brother. "We'll need to talk about that."

Alexander waved his hand dismissively. "The only reason for that was that the Taurians hadn't signed – I'll move their re-instatement next time the Council convenes."

"That will help." Henry took a deep breath. "Among the things I was shown was a copy of a legal document signed by the then Co-ordinator, Captain-General, Archon and First Prince directly apologising to House Avellar, House Calderon and House Centrella for their ancestors' decision to join the Star League and explicitly citing the abolition of the Conventions as a crime against all mankind."

"They take it seriously then?" Alexander nodded thoughtfully. "I'll send word ahead then. Can't have them thinking we're bloodthirsty barbarians. Now, dare I hope for good news?"

"If you mean the submission of the Periphery March to your authority, then no, I don't. We have some common ground but..."

"Her Calderon blood stands in the way?"

"I doubt it's that simple, Ian," Alexander told his grandson. "Remember that there is as much Varnay blood in your father as there is Davion blood in Roger Varnay."

Henry nodded. "From what I can tell, she is proud of both sides of her ancestry, so she does consider the current Protector to be a kinsman. However, more importantly, she considers him an ally. Apparently the Concordat and the Federated Suns were both part of a larger alliance called the Federated Commonwealth that covered almost half the Inner Sphere and Near Periphery. So in a way, Ian has a point: she's reluctant to accept a settlement that could leave her required to turn upon them. She'd also be unwilling to scale back the militias of her domain into something more in line with those of the rest of the Federated Sun."

Alexander's brow furrowed. "Why would that be necessary?"

"It would seem that they are accustomed to significant pirate problems. The Arch-duchess' solution is to have reinforced the planetary militias to the point that they're comparable to a Star League division."

"What sort of pirates was she dealing with?" Vincent asked incredulously.

"The sort of 'pirates' who decided to crash a heavy dropship into the centre of the Taurian capital city rather than be taken alive," Henry answered bluntly. "Protector John Calderon, also known as her Cousin Jack, was somewhere in the high double-digits on the list of succession until that point."

"Jesu..." Vincent had grown up in the mayhem of the Civil War and his father, of course, had been a determined participant in it. For Ian, however, the tenuousness of a noble lineage had just been brought home.

"Indeed. Technically Rachel was higher up the succession, but some sort of deal had been set up that excluded her in return for a favourable settlement on her property inheritance from that side of the family. She didn't seem too bothered about it, she'd been raised a Davion in all but name."

Ian looked at his three elders and when none of them seemed about to say anything asked: "So what is she like?"

"Not exactly a normal product of courtly upbringing." Henry reached into his attaché case and produced a folded poster. "Spent a couple of years as a mercenary before she was called home, ennobled as a Marquessa and eventually elevated to Archduchess when her uncle redrew the March boundaries."

Unfolding the poster, Ian narrowly refrained from an appreciative whistle. It was advertising the services and job opportunities of an organisation – presumably a mercenary outfit – called the Storm Riders, and if the mechwarrior displayed upon the poster was a fair representation of the personnel, both and probably been in high demand.

"Quite the firecracker," he said outloud. "Is she married?"

"Try to think with your larger head, son."

"I am." Ian realised how petulant that sounded and quickly continued: "By which I mean the politics of the situation. If she isn't enamoured of directly subordinating herself to the throne then why not play the dynastic card. Marry her back into the Davion line: we can claim her March as part of the Suns to keep the Star League off her, but she can remain personally neutral. In a generation or so the entire point becomes moot."

"Not bad," Alexander admitted. "We could sweeten up such an arrangement quite handsomely."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but she's married and had her first child in the last year." Henry shrugged. "We could always arrange something for the boy – there are a few girls in the family not much older."

"No no, I want this in the main line of succession," Alexander declared. "We'll keep this one in reserve. Ian, I'm giving you responsibility for providing us with a suitable heiress to marry the future Arch-Duke of Filtvet."

Ian blinked. "Um, what?"

"Half the nobility of the Suns will be arriving in the next few weeks with eligible daughters to parade in front of you, son." Vincent's tone was matter of fact. "Do remember to get your mother's opinion before making any hasty decisions though." Then he couldn't keep the act up any more in the face of his son's panicked expression.

* * *

**High Orbit, Taurus**

**Hyades Cluster, Taurian Concordat**

**10 July 2577 (9 July 3032 local calendar)**

The pair of aerospace fighters duelling thousands of kilometres above the capital of the Taurian Concordat were both clearly derived from the Tengo Aerospace _Lightning_, a popular and much licensed design among mercenaries and for smaller states with limited domestic aerospace industry.

Both pilots had cut their teeth on the classic LTN-G15 model and both had taken a hand in designing the versions they were flying: the Outworlder's LTN-16A against the Canopian LTN-G15C.

A hundred eyes were watching them from rescue craft, observation domes and remotely via the sensors that kept 'Downtown', the orbital training area of the Concordat Aerospace Flight School, under exquisitely detailed surveillance at all time. Despite this, the clash was a private one: no outside feeds were permitted that the media might use to inadvertently bring national pride down for or against victor and defeated.

Not that the holders of those two titles was confirmed yet, of course.

Savitri Centrella hissed as the rear-mounted laser of the 16A fired, narrowly failing to score on her own fighter as she slid past the tempting aft of her opponent. The near escape didn't hinder her from bringing the fifty-ton fighting up and around, thumbs lightly touching the Target Interlock Circuits that would trigger the formidable array of lasers and particle cannons nestled in the nose and wings of the G15C. She didn't close the contact though: the 16A was outside her arc of fire and twisting around to take its own shots.

Reflexively, the Magestrix flared her engines, muscles straining to keep control as she brought the fighter around and away from the thread. The heat signature of the G15C indicated plainly that Callum Avellar had fired on her, but with no damage showing on her status monitors, he must have missed.

The indecisive nature of the duel was unusual, but with both pilots having been trained the same way – half a life time ago, Savitri had travelled to the Outworlds Alliance to train as a pilot there – and flying machines almost entirely matched in performance, it was all but inevitable.

Callum's advantage lay in the 16A's greater armour and the accuracy of the paired pulse lasers mounted in the nose but in contrast, Savitri's G15C sported almost twice the firepower. Ultimately whoever made the first mistake would almost certainly be making the last and both were determined that it would not be them.

One such mistake would be running out of fuel: both fighters had a hard limit on how much thrust they could use and Savitri had been deliberately sparing with hers. Winning by being the last one with fuel in her tanks would be less than satisfactory outcome, but better than the alternative.

Still, there was a time for prudence and a time for daring. Before becoming Magestrix in 3020 she'd been one of the stars of the small Canopian Navy's aerosquadrons. She hadn't made her reputation on prudence alone and now she punched her throttle wide open, along with half the manoeuvring thrusters. The sudden strain rattled the airframe: it might be almost new and technically within tolerances but developing a delta-v of over forty-four metres per second squared was still not an everyday occurrence.

Riding the ragged edge of that bought her a fraction of a second before Callum realised his danger and went into an evasive manoeuvre, a split second that was just long enough for her to connect with her lasers, although the twin particle beams sizzled barely below one wing of the 16A.

The damage done wasn't enough to punch through the other fighter's armour, but it did leave it dangerously weakened, cutting Callum's options down as he now had to shield that flank from further salvos out of the G15C: a solid hit from the PPCs could not only penetrate damaged wing, but potentially cause crippling damage – albeit simulated.

That wasn't to say that he was going to make it easy for her: Callum McManus, before adopting the Avellar name on assuming the Presidency, hadn't had quite the same level of notoriety as his opponent but that was at least in part because he was member of a force known for taking excellence in its pilots far past the levels required by other forces.

That meant he knew how to gamble too and reversing his orientation at the right moment had the pair of them sliding past each other almost nose to nose: a deflection shot at point-blank range, hoping that the difficulty of the shots would combine with the surprise to keep him secure from Savitri's guns.

It wasn't quite enough – it wasn't Savitri's temper that was on a hair-trigger – and if their weapons hadn't been in training mode, both fighters would have been in need of serious repairs.

In fact, according to Savitri's status board, she'd have been dependent on her flight suit for survival as one pulse laser shot had traced along the flank of her cockpit, probably hard enough to damage the vaccum seal and almost certainly to leave the life support gear there a wreck.

Still, she wasn't out of the fight and was already coming about to bring herself up above the 16A when her radio crackled. "The honours are yours, Sav."

"Oh?"

Callum's fighter rolled onto what was unmistakeably a trajectory towards the dropship that had carried him here to the Concordat. "You took out my pulse lasers," he replied. "Without those, I don't fancy my chances against that monster of yours."

"Nice little scrap." The Magestrix pulled her own _Lightning_ around and began to cruise back towards the vessel she herself was operating off. Unlike Callum's relatively modest dropship that had been ferried across uninhabited systems in the Federated Suns' Draconis March to reach the Arch-Duchy of Filtvet and the command circuit waiting for it, she'd had access to a substantial circuit of large jumpships capable of carrying her usual flagship, the battlecruiser HMS _Concubine_, across the four hundred light year distance in less than two weeks.

In the middle distance, the arrival of a jumpship in that same chain at a pirate point heralded the arrival of the last of the rulers of the Independent States of the Periphery, Marcus O'Reilly.

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**11 July 2577 (10 July 3032 local calendar)**

Just over seven hundred years before, half of a North American republic had broken away from the other half over the oppressions of the federal government. They'd then had to set up their own federal government which proved not so very different in the end and still managed not to win the resulting a war.

In the hopes of following neither example, Protector Jack Calderon had arranged the conference over how to deal with the problem of the Star League and its territorial ambitions with conscious efforts to distinguish it from its enemies. As a result it was startlingly informal.

The four men and two women were occupying comfortable armchairs around a low table. Each had notepaper and other stationary to hand, a microphone discreetly placed in the ceiling to pick up what they said for the secretaries in the next room.

Other than serving staff ready with refreshments, that was all he felt they needed. Actually it was the same set up that he used for games of Dungeons and Dragons – rounding up a group of players able to regularly attend games in the Government Mansion had been difficult, but at least he could pay his own secretary a bonus to transcribe game logs into a legible form for him.

He'd have invited Savitri, who his sources had confirmed also played the game occasionally, except they'd also revealed that she preferred a later, lesser edition.

The idea of running the meeting as a relatively informal brainstorming session rather than as an exercise in diplomatic protocol seemed to have hit the right note as rather than the usual business suits and military five of them were actually dressed like relatively normal people. The only exception was Marcus O'Reilly, who wore legionnaire uniform, but had unbent enough to loosen his collar.

In comparison, Jack and Rachel had dressed down in jeans with a workshirt and sweatshirt respectively while Callum had elected to wear slacks and an almost painfully bright Hawaiian shirt. Somewhere between the two extremes were Garrick Stark and Savitri. The former assured them that his silk shirt and snug black breeches were the height of fashion back on Tortuga, while the latter had opted for an off the shoulder dress that clung to every curve she had.

"We are here to discuss war." Jack decided to cut to the point. "It's more than six months since we've, somehow, returned to this particular chapter in history. We've all had some form of contact with the Inner Sphere. Some was even peaceful. Does anyone believe that we can co-exist with the Star League?"

"I don't believe so," Garrick replied promptly. "The Pollux Proclaimation makes it pretty clear they're not settling for less than the whole human race under their rule."

Savitri sighed. "For various reasons, no." Opposite her, Rachel also shook her head.

"Thus far I think the Star League barely knows I exist." Marcus said bluntly. "That's going to change soon though. I've seen armies roar out of the Inner Sphere in search of conquest before and I don't wish to see such an invasion succeed. I ask you all is such a war winnable?"

Jack hesitated a fraction. While he had been advised, alone of the six of them he had no military experience beyond cursory training in the use of a BattleMech and a self-defense course after he was recognised as the Calderon heir and declared Protector.

"Only quickly." Rachel's words were clearly ones she'd long considered. "Given time they can build armies that will crush us with sheer numbers. If we're still at war in five years then we will be losing. Even in this era, the Inner Sphere has more worlds and more people than we do. We know that they have the will to fight for twenty years so we cannot allow them to set the pace."

Savitri nodded reluctantly. "You're right. If we hold back on the defensive we'll in time be worn down just as our ancestors were. We can only win by taking the fight to them." She held up a hand before anyone else could say anything further. "We also need to look beyond the war. So the other side of your earlier question, Jack is, can we make peace with the Inner Sphere after a war?"

"Well if we beat them..." Garrick looked confused.

"I think I see where you're going: you mean that just because the Star League is beaten doesn't necessarily mean that the Combine will stop invading me?" asked Callum.

"Bingo. Or to give another example, take a look at the demonstrations outside. The Taurian people, or a great number of them at least, _hate_ the Star League and what goodwill had built up of late for the Federated Suns isn't transferring to Alexander Davion's realm. I don't see any viable alternative to war, but we need to figure out a strategy to end the war. It's not as if we can occupy them."

"We need to break up the Star League then." Rachel leant forwards slightly. "I've made contact with New Avalon and I'm trying to get a feel for Alexander. The trouble is that from his point of view I'm running a breakaway province. I don't think he'd be willing to quit the Star League even if it meant my swearing fealty. In fact, I have a suspicion that he may be looking for them to help him to conquer me."

"Then we should hit them first." Jack smacked his fist against the soft cushion on one arm of his chair. "We need to hit the Hegemony."

"That's an awfully long way. Your Admial Cain and I are looking at hitting New Samarkand, which is a bit more reachable. And there's Sian."

"Not Sian," the Protector and the Magestrix both disagreed and then looked at each other. Savitri arched an eyebrow and Jack flushed slightly.

"The Capellans didn't directly participate in the Reunification Wars," he pointed out, "Other than donating troops to the SLDF before it began, that is. My diplomats are working to see if we can convince Chancellor Liao to throw in with us."

"Great minds think alike and there's more than one way to skin a cat." Savitri admitted. "In this case, establishing a means of exporting through Capella."

"Exporting what. Not Prolong!"

"Garrick, if the Inner Sphere were to conclude that they could only obtain Prolong and Rejuvenation from me, which isn't quite true of course, but you get the idea, they'll drop everything and come after me like a pack of lusty spacers."

"That's disgusting." Rachel observed, waving a finger in mock reproval.

"So is politics, my dear. If, on the other hand," Savitri continued, "they can obtain it in the Capellan Confederation and Chancellor Liao uses the Star League's own Technology Transfer laws to maintain a monopoly then she and I will rake in rather a lot of the Inner Sphere's available capital. Which won't wreck their economies, but it won't help them finance a war either. And it does provide avenues for waging peace, once that becomes a better course of action than war."

"Trust you to make a profit."

"Someone has to pay the bills, Protector Calderon," she replied a little sharply. "Unless of course I'm mistaken about you wanting to borrow money to fund this war without raising your taxes?"

Stark looked at her curiously. "Wait, are you saying that you're going to con the Star League into funding our resistance. And _I_ get accused of being a pirate!"

"That which your predecessor did with a fleet of ships, I do with offers of near-immortality." A smile crossed her face. "My way seems to work better than that of the late and unlamented Paula Trevaline."

* * *

**Aurochs Grand Hotel, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**12 July 2577 (11 July 3032 local calendar)**

"Did you have a good evening?" Rachel asked drily as she poured another cup of coffee, passing it across table towards Savitri.

The Magestrix accepted the cup and sipped slightly before gave it a careful look and setting it aside with a disgusted look on her face. "Not fair giving me caffeine before I'm entirely awake," she reproved and reached for fruit juice instead.

She certainly looked as if she hadn't had as much sleep as she wanted. "I don't think I've seen you this tired in the morning since the first time we had breakfast together."

"Hmm, twelve years ago. Being a mother will do that for you." Savitri smiled slightly as she drained a glass of apple juice. "And yes, it was a good night."

"I thought so, I visited last night and was surprised not to find you."

"Well if I'd known you were coming then I would have been there," the other woman said with a saucy wink. For someone who hadn't taken prolong, being too old for any version of it, Savitri still managed to seem younger than her years – not that she was even middle-aged yet, of course.

"Not like that. I am married, as you well know. Or is senility setting in early?" Rachel teased. "So who put horns on Richard's head this time?"

"Oh now, if I was one to kiss and tell, Hanse would have tanned your hide no matter if you were a Marksman yourself." Savitri cut the end off her boiled egg. The two of them were occupying a private dining room in the sprawling hotel complex that was accommodating the majority of the guests.

Rachel smiled nostalgically remembering the Terran Conference of 3021 and sharing accommodations in a recently-repaired luxury dropship she had found on New Dallas and just sold to Savitri. "Much as it's good to have time to socialise, I had a topic of conversation in mind."

"Which is?"

"I think I may have to take the throne."

"I rather thought that you had the throne, of Filtvet at lea... ah. That throne?

"Yes. That throne." She looked away.

"I always thought, largely because you told me, that you didn't want to be First Prince."

"I didn't. I still don't. But if it comes to that..." Rachel was slicing her toast into thinner and thinner strips, only half aware of what she was doing with the butter knife. "I don't think that Alexander Davion will leave me alone."

"So you're looking at fighting family, for something you don't really want..." Savitru paused and spooned egg into her mouth, chewing for a moment. "So why are you doing it?"

"Because if I don't, he's going to come here and probably tear my entire March apart. Disarm them, leave them open every damn predator that comes along."

"Let's assume that I'm not entirely familiar with every little detail of Davion history. I know a few things about Alexander, he's you – how many greats? - great-grandfather, but I don't know everything. Why do you think he's going to do that?"

"Fourteen greats for me, fifteen for Liz Stark-Davion. He grew up surrounded by relatives and powerful nobles who had private fiefs within the Federated Suns. Not quite the same as the arch-duchies in our day, but it all looks the same from a distance. By the time he was grown up they were fighting over the throne that was supposed to be his and in the end he had to conquer each of them in turn."

"One aunt committed suicide rather than be captured than his forces, another fled to the Confederation and died only four years ago. His first wife was assassinated on the order of one of his generals. He's spent the rest of his life ensuring that the Federated Suns wouldn't face another Civil War and now here I am, to all practises independent and with an army that answers to me over him."

"He's probably the most legendary leader in the Federated Suns has ever had and I'm his worst nightmare."

Savitri nodded. "I can't say I've got anyone in this era that I would look on like that. So you don't think he'd accept an outcome that would leave you independent?"

"I can't imagine that he'd give up. We're talking about a man who didn't surrender when he couldn't have raised a company of infantry to his name."

"So is this an issue of where your loyalty lies? Or apprehension over taking control the Suns?"

Rachel hesitated. "Perhaps a little of both. I swore an oath to the Federated Suns. Even if this isn't the same nation, I don't want to see it torn apart in a civil war."

"Could you outlive him?"

"All things being equal, he'll live another twenty-three years. Even if he doesn't, there's no telling how his immediate heirs would feel – they died young in accidents and assassinations which we can't count on now."

"Hmm." Savitri wiped her lips with a napkin. "You've got quite a problem. So you think you're going to have to oust him and take over? Hanse certainly raised you with the intention you would be a possible heir, but honestly you'd be as ill-prepared for it as I was for my own throne. This isn't the Suns of our day. You don't know the people, you don't know the customs... looking back I have to shudder at how unready I was."

She stood, walked around the table and kissed Rachel's cheek. "Win the war for Filtvet, but understand that if you go to New Avalon then you will lose Filtvet. You can't possibly rule both."

* * *

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**12 July 2577**

There was a shell-shocked silence in the chamber of the Star League Council as Carlos Dangmar Lee, Commanding General of the SLDF (and no relation that he was aware of to the 1860s Confederate general), laid out the situation that they faced.

Over the course of eight months, the Star League Defense Force had lost more than a third of its regiments and seventeen percent of its naval strength. Supporting elements from the Free Worlds League and Federated Suns had been similarly shattered: all thirty-five regiments of the AFFS Auxiliary Corps now confirmed to be in captivity and three-quarters of the Marik Auxiliary Corps simply gone, along with the Captain-General.

Added to the loss of twenty percent of the Free Worlds League Navy, including three of their powerful Atreus-class battleships, and a staggering sixty percent of the Federated Suns Navy at Estuan; it was a string of losses unparalleled in military history.

It was Ian Marik who asked the question that was going through all their minds: "Can we even go on?"

"We must." His namesake was uncompromising. "The states of the Periphery have shown themselves to be determinedly opposed to the Star League. As Admiral McSwiggan found out on Tellman's Mistake, we cannot expect them to leave us alone. We must anticipate that they will continue to attack neighbouring worlds."

"What exactly are you proposing?" Hehiro Kurita asked the First Lord.

"I believe it would be best for General Lee to present our proposed strategy," Ian Cameron said, gesturing to his old friend.

Lee cleared his throat. "There are some obvious points to address. Firstly, any offensive activity towards Taurus and Canopus is completely out of the question for years to come.."

"Secondly, the next few years will depend heavily upon our ability to deliver forces to Periphery planets and prevent them from doing the same: this will require a substantial naval build up."

"In detail: General Wexworth will remain in command of the Taurian Front, commanding I, III and IV Corps. His orders are to see to defense of the Capellan and Federated Suns worlds along that border. V Corps and a provisional VIII Corps, formed for now out of reservists and elements of the Star Guard Corps, will take responsibility for reinforcing the CCAF and FWLM forces along the Canopian front. General Amalthia Kincaid from the Strategic Simulations Command will take command there."

"General Forlough remains in command of the Outworlds front although he will be reinforced with the remaining elements of VI Corps. Meanwhile General Nathan Isaacson has accepted command of the new IX Corps, which will form the core of our Rim Worlds Task Force under the overall command of Archon Steiner-Dinesen."

All eyes went to Viola Steiner-Dinesen, who nodded to confirm that she had accepted the position.

"The purpose of this force," Lee continued, "Is to assist First Consul Gregory Amaris in restoring order and bringing his realm into the Star League."

Alexander's fist hit the table in front of him. "I'm not convinced by this course of action. We have a major threat in the rimwards regions and you want to send forces in completely the other direction?"

"That is correct, Prince Davion." Ian Cameron seemed unimpressed by the bluster. "There are significant advantages to prioritising the Rim Worlds Republic. Firstly, we have significant support there, meaning that the campaign is likely to be relatively short and straightforward. Secondly, it prevents the Periphery states from being able to send their own forces there, which would place the Lyran Commonwealth on the defensive and unable to support the rimwards theatres of operation effectively. Finally, adding the industry and military forces of the Republic to the Star League will go at least a small way towards redressing our losses."

"Essentially our intention is to bring the Republic and the Outworlds Alliance into compliance with the Star League, isolating the Taurians, the Canopians and their Marian and Tortugan allies to be dealt with once we have a better grip on their technology and have rebuilt our forces. We estimate that this could be five to ten years from now."

"Five years from now they'll have Sian, if not New Avalon or Atreus. I hope you have something more concrete in mind to deal with the naval side of the problem."

"I would have no objection to sending a detachment of the DCA to support your border with the Alliance," offered the Co-ordinator.

Alexander shook his head. He was sure the Co-ordinator would be delighted to send his warships across the border, but perhaps less accommodating about removing them later. "That's very generous, but you have so much to concern yourself with their border in easy reach of your capital. Besides, I'm sure the Star League has something planned or the matter wouldn't have been raised."

Lee nodded. "How about three hundred and fifty warships between seven and eight hundred thousand tons in the next twelve years? The Periphery have shown us that they have powerful and advanced fleets with a sophisticated doctrine. In order to counter that we've had to reconsider our own designs."

"This, of course, will take time and I assure you contracts for this new construction will be going to yards all across the Star League." Which by implication meant that the technology would be shared with the other members, even though the Hegemony wasn't required to do so under the Star League Accords.

"Rather than leave the yards inactive, it's been decided to upgrade a hundred cruisers and two hundred and fifty frigates from the inactive reserves with advanced point defences to deal with the Taurians' apparent fondness for missile armaments. The cruisers are already being surveyed to determine what other repairs and improvements should be made and we intend to donate the first twenty-five cruisers to the FSN and the next ten to the FWLN in make good their losses."

It wouldn't, of course. The loss of hulls was terrible, but what had gutted the Federated Suns' Navy was so many crews dead or captured. They'd be able to put people aboard the cruisers, drawn from shore-establishments, new recruits and cannibalising the remaining crews, but the naval strength of the Federated Suns was going to be an illusion for years to come.

"The frigates will go towards rebuilding the forces along the Taurian and Canopian fronts. I'm not going to deny that we've taken a terrible beating but we have the strength to come back from this. Within twelve months, the Star League Navy will be stronger than it was at the start of this year."

"That's all very well assuming we have a year. We haven't really hurt them yet," Ian Marik objected coolly. "What do you recommend if they feel that they can keep coming?"

"Quite honestly, that will have to depend on their methods and resources." Lee brought up a map of the border. "It isn't possible to be strong everywhere, so the goal will be to hold onto strategic world while forcing them to expend resources pacifying others. What has been determined that the Ares Convention seems to be held in high regard, even by the Taurians."

Ian Cameron cleared his throat. "That does appear to have been a miscalculation on my part. Alexander has requested that we should readopt the Ares Conventions."

"Now that we're losing, you mean," Ursula observed sarcastically, looking over at the First Prince.

"Until recently, it was believed that any war against the Taurian Concordat would likely see the same brutality as your own state's Rim War against them a century and a half ago. It didn't make sense to send the SLDF in while tying their hands." Alexander spread his hands. "Now that we aren't facing that prospect, we can commit ourselves to civilised methods of warfare without endangering ours soldiers."

"The motion had been raised," Cameron said formally. "I believe a voice vote should settle the matter. Alexander, your vote is for the measure?"

"Of course."

"Viola?"

She shook her head. "I don't endorse such means as a regular matter but nor will I rule them out."

Ian nodded and moved to the next voter. "Ursula?"

"In favour of reinstatement," the Chancellor said, after a moment's thought.

"Opposed," Hehiro declared without waiting to be prompted.

"And Ian."

The new Captain-General leant forwards. "Based on an offer from the Marian League to uphold 'a civilised code of warfare' for as long as we do, I'm with the First Prince and the Chancellor. And Director-General, it's our three states that will bear the brunt of any retaliation. A split vote here would suggest a certain lack of common interest between those not in that position and those who are."

"A fair point," Ian Cameron conceded, flinching inwardly at the slightly veiled threat. He sat back in his chair considering how to cast his vote.

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**12 July 2577 (11 July 3032 local calendar)**

"So we're going to fight." Garrick Stark wasn't by profession a pirate. He'd commanded the mercenary regiment Garrick's Grinders for almost a decade before seizing control of Tortuga from the pirates who were ironically descended from AFFS deserters from the Reunification War. "The question is where?"

"The Terran Hegemony," Jack said immediately. "I said the same yesterday. We need to hit them in the heart."

Savitri sighed. "Jack, let's be serious. We could, at best, carry out some sort of deep raiding into the Hegemony. Which wouldn't be a bad idea, even if only for morale reasons. But projecting a serious naval force across that distance would risk losing a forces that the rest of us can't afford to lose. I won't even go into the prospect of holding worlds in the Hegemony because even you couldn't imagine that that would be possible."

"I'm not so sure that you're right about that, Sav." Rachel had curled her legs up beneath her in the seat of the chair. "We need to be bold here. If we take out the Hegemony's shipyards then we would cripple the Star League's ability to upgrade their navy even discounting the morale impact. The political pressure to hold ships back to cover other vital worlds would make it difficult for them to concentrate another invasion force."

The Magestrix looked around for support but only Callum seemed concerned. "I see advantages to the idea as an expansion of the possibility of striking at New Samarkand, but I'd have to prioritise operations defending the Alliance."

"I like the idea," Garrick stated. "It makes sense to go for the throat. It's unfortunate that we can't go for a full decapitation strike."

Jack looked intrigued. "Why can't we? A couple of shots from a naval laser could smash the Court of the Star League flat."

Marcus leant forwards, eyes furious. "Absolutely not. That would be the worst possible thing we could do."

"Agreed. It would be a clear breach of the Ares Conventions to bombard a facility located in proximity to a city." Rachel looked over at Jack. "You do that and they'll start lobbing orbital shots at your cities."

"They'll do that anyway," he protested. "We know that from the history books."

"Maybe they will, but maybe they won't. The Mariks didn't, historically. And I've sent them a message that as long as they play nicely, so will I," declared Marcus.

"I do not wish to see another Sian," Savitri said flatly. "You signed the Ares Conventions, Jack. I was there. If you break them without clear first action by the Star League then I will cut you and your people off without a qualm in the world."

"It was just a thought," he protested quickly. "I promise I won't do anything of the kind except in retaliation."

"I spoke merely in jest," Garrick excused himself quickly.

"Not a very funny one. All your taste is in your mouth."

"That's not what you said last night."

"So that's where you were when I went to your room." Rachel slapped her hands over her mouth, wishing she could take the comment back.

There was a studied silence as three of the men present tried not to look as if they were imagining what Rachel might have been visiting Savitri for (Jack had least success in maintaining that level of composure). Garrick's smile, on the other hand, was openly smug.

"I was talking shop with Tanya and Teresa and one thing led to another." Savitri glanced around the room and rolled her eyes. "Grow up. So, attacking the Terran Hegemony. Not the worst idea I've heard but probably premature."

"Hmm... uhm, why? I'd like to do it as soon as possible."

"Think about it, Jack. Do you want to destroy the ships they already have on the blocks now, or wait until they've laid down based on their experience with us? This way we can destroy the ships that will be most threat to us, and get an advance notice of what they are likely to threaten us with."

Garrick whistled admiringly. "You are a ruthless bitch."

"And proud of it," she admitted shamelessly.

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**13 July 2577 (12 July 3032 local calendar)**

"You fucking traitor!" Jack Calderon's face was pale and bloodless, his voice low and carried none of the emotion that the words suggested. "You just signed your own death warrant."

His distant cousin's voice was no less icy. "Hold off on calling the guards, Jack. I have some questions first and I don't think the Caesar would have come here if he wasn't expecting some."

Marcus O'Reilly nodded. "Ask your questions, Arch-Duchess."

"Do you have any idea what you have _done_? Not just giving them the tech built into the Harpy, but telling them out-right that we have a tactical means of faster-than-light communications? Their ignorance of that could have been a priceless tactical advantage."

"It doesn't matter."

All eyes turned to Savitri, who shrugged.

"What do you mean: 'it doesn't matter'?" Jack demanded. "He's just served up a hefty measure of our secrets to the Star League: lithium fusion, HPGs, modern point defense and fighters... They could leapfrog hundreds of years of development and cut away most of our technical advantage."

He rose to his feet. "We can't trust this man. I need to get a fleet moving to secure Marian space or your entire anti-spinwards flank will be hanging wide open."

"Sit down. Hypocrite."

Jack turned in surprise. Annoying as she might occasionally be, Savitri Centrella had been a reliable presence on his borders for over a decade: one he would have shed blood for. "Where did that come from?"

"Just about eleven years ago, I gave you a copy of the Illyrian Memory Core as something you could rebuild Samantha University around. You turned around and used a copy of it to buy your way into the Federated Commonwealth, which was one of the more stunning _volte faces_ of the last hundred years. So far, fair enough. I might not be an admirer of the FedCom but I'd gifted you the core free and clear. It was your call to make."

"Then what's your point."

Savitri's blue eyes were frosty. "You also told him where you got the Core. Not to mention spilling the beans about my nuclear munitions factory."

Jack shook his head. "That was entirely different."

"Yes. You planned to keep your little spouting of information from me. Very realpolitik of you. Marcus, counterversely, has told us openly of what he has done and so far as I am aware did not release the _Harpy_ as token to buy his way into the Star League or Free Worlds League."

"Quite correct," the Caesar agreed, nodding slightly to his unexpected defender. "Whatever the outcome of the war, I will no doubt be dealing with the Free Worlds League as a neighbour for the rest of my life – assuming that the Protector chooses to grant me a stay of execution – and if building bridges to them is a grevious sin, I must wonder at why he has sent diplomats to Sian."

Somewhat bewildered, Jack hesitated sufficiently for Rachel to take him by the shoulder. "Let's sit down and talk this over like adults."

"Yes, particularly as I'd like to know why the Magistrix is so dismissive of the threat that _Harpy_'s technology poses." Callum Avellar looked grave. His Outworlds Alliance was far smaller than any of the others except Garrick's Taurian Domain, and the unlike the latter it had a long border with the Inner Sphere. Of all six of the Periphery Lords, his realm was unquestionably the most exposed.

"There are three reasons. Firstly, they already have Lithium Fusion Batteries. Contrary to popular opinion, they were developed well before the Star League. Secondly, it will take two – perhaps three – years for the Star League to put HyperPulse technology into use, at least in any useful numbers. They have samples and operational instructions, not detailed blueprints on how to construct them. That means they don't have any effect on the strategic equation: if we haven't established a... let's call it ascendancy... over the Star League by that point then we will have far larger problems."

Savitri shook her head, sending black hair flying. "I'm not saying I'd not be happier if they had to wait a bit longer to develop them, or if we could offer states breaking away from the League our aid developing them as a bargaining tool, but it was always going to happen and it's not going to significantly impact the critical period."

"Except that they now know what we can do." Rachel might consider Savitri a close friend but it wouldn't keep them from arguing fervently.

"Rache, they already know. That's point three: I've already had at least one smuggler cross the border into Canopian space, no doubt some free traders from our regions entered the Inner Sphere. In particular, a good amount of the old Capellan jumpship fleet went commercial after the Third Battle of Sian. Now that their realm miraculously reappeared, it would beggar belief for none of them to try to go home and they would know that HPGs exist. Closing the barn door now isn't going to change the fact that that horse bolted a good long time ago."

* * *

**Government Mansion, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**14 July 2577 (13 July 3032 local calendar)**

Rukia Fukuda had pretty much expected to meet the Protector some day. Learning that she was going to receive the Taurian Concordat Armed Forces highest honour had gelled that to the point that she expected to meet him soon.

She hadn't quite expected for one of her first sights inside the Government Mansion to be a veritable pack of House Lords crossing the inside courtyard _en masse_. Protector Calderon was near the front and as soon as he spotted her, he beckoned her over.

"Commodore, welcome back to Samantha," he greeted her. "I don't think my company today needs introducing, but in the event any of them are finding their mental faculties impaired, everyone this is Commodore Fukuda, the victor of the Battle of Estuan."

Rukai saluted – it seemed like the thing to do. Three different salutes – palm down for the President, the Protector and Lord Grimm, palm forward for the Magestrix and Arch-Duchess; and hand outstretched for Casear O'Reilly – were offered in return, even by those not in uniform.

"A pleasure to meet you," Callum Avellar added, extending his hand to shake hers. "Hearing about the battle has done a great deal for morale in the Alliance."

"My pleasure, sir."

"I hope you don't have any plans for the early evening, Commodore, because we'd like to pick your brain on a little matter after the award ceremony." The Protector looked amused by the notion.

She did have plans, actually, but when your commander-in-chief asked... "Nothing I can't re-arrange."

"Splendid. Don't worry, we'll at least provide you with dinner. Do you like pizza?"

The leader of the entire Concordat was asking what she wanted to eat? "Depending on the topping, sir."

"Eh, details." Calderon waved off the matter. "Now, are you all braced and ready to face the media of the Taurian Concordat?"

"Yes sir."

"Splendid, because the entire reputation of the Taurian Concordat Armed Forces rests on your performance this afternoon."

What?

"Dear, stop trolling for reactions." Lisa Steiner-Calderon swept onto the scene, her daughters and the pair of nannys necessary to keep them under control, in tow.

Jack blinked lazily. "Too much?"

"Just a little." Lisa took his arm and nodded to Rukia. "I apologise, my husband is a little under-socialised at times. He'll keep the media from going too far, if only because he needs you far more than you need him."

For some reason, Rukia didn't find that to be reassuring.

* * *

The pizza was superb to the point that Rukia suspected she'd been spoiled for life. She'd not have believed she could manage to eat the entire thing and was now slightly regretting having done so, given she'd need hours in a gym to work off the calories. But the regrets were a faint voice in comparison to the lure of molten cheese and tomato.

The children had finally been taken away by their carers (Elizabeth apparently had her eye on a naval career in ten years or so and had pestered Rukia as much as her mother would allow through the private dinner) when Jack Calderon called for her attention: "Admiral Fukuda."

The distraction was enough that it took her a moment to realise what the Protector had called her.

"I'm a Commodore, sir."

"Not as of this evening." He wiped his hands carefully before passing over two official documents. Sure enough, the first was an Admiral's commission, made out in her name. Rukia spared herself a moment of internal glee before looking at the other.

"Fifth Fleet?" The Taurian Concordat's warships were organised into four fleets, to the best of her knowledge.

"Fifth Fleet," Jack Calderon confirmed with a nod. "The navy needs to be reorganised to deal with the strategic situation we're faced with, something rather different from our previous expectations. As part of that, the ships you commanded at Estuan will be forming the core of a new fleet. I don't believe in breaking up a winning team, at least without good reason."

He turned to Rachel Calderon-Davion, who had joined Rukia and the Calderon family for dinner. "You're the military mind, cousin. Why don't you lay out the strategy?"

Rachel, who had just put the last piece of stuffed crust from a slice of her pizza into her mouth gave him a dirty look. She chewed and swallowed before answering.

"In case it isn't obvious, the rulers of the various periphery nations weren't here just to attend your receiving the Concordat Sunburst. We've also been working out the details of our alliance against the Star League, no small matter since we've had mixed histories over the last ten years or so."

"Right at the moment, the Star League is on the back foot thanks to their losses at Estuan and Tellman's Mistake, but we have to assume that they'll be drawing on reserves and learning from their mistakes there. We, of course, are completing new ships and reorganising. Our hope is that the Star League is not ready to move against us while most of us don't have the concentrated forces to withstand that."

"Because of that, Taurian forces have had to be detached to support the Outworlds and Filtvet," added Jack. "The Magestrix wll be similarly assisting Marcus O'Reilly."

"Thank you Jack, I was getting to that." Rachel gave him a withering look. "In order to keep the Star League offbalance we're going to engage in several relatively small attacks along the border with the Federated Suns, Draconis Combine and – in the case of the Marians – the Lyran and Rim Worlds. While all these operations have some military purpose, sometimes quite important, they are also intended to divert attention from Canopus-Andurien."

"When the time comes – a year from now, perhaps soonr, perhaps later, we'll be using their border with the Free Worlds League as a staging area to attack deep into the Star League with a multi-national force. We want you to be part of that force."

Rukia bit her lip. "I'm honoured, but... where would this attack be heading for? Atreus, to repeat McCarron's success in 3024?"

"Deeper than that."

When the Protector didn't expand on that, Rukia folded her arms and decided to wait patiently.

"You're such a child, Jack." Rachel turned back to Rukia. "The primary objective of the operation is to strike at the shipyards of the Terran Hegemony. Including the Terran yards themselves. Ian Cameron thinks that by forming the Star League he's insulated himself and his people from the rigors of war. We want you to show them how wrong Cameron is."

"Do you mean..."

"Within the boundaries of the Ares Conventions, Admiral."

"Then when do I start?"

* * *

Lisa Steiner-Calderon escorted Rukia from the dining room towards the side entrance were a limousine was waiting to escort the newly-minted Admiral from the Mansion back to the BOQ where her friends – those who had been able to make it to Taurus in time at least – would be waiting to begin a private celebration of her decoration with a night on the town.

It's going to be hell, not being able to tell them about my promotion, she realised, much less about Fifth Fleet and our mission. The promotion would be confidential until the formal announcement of the re-organisation of Fleet deployments and the mission, of course, would be classified top secret for months.

"I have to ask you to excuse my husband," Lisa said as they descended one of the staircases of the huge building. "He was not raised to rule, rather the reverse, and while he does very well despite this, he backslides occasionally."

"It was nothing."

Lisa shook her head. "Commodore – may I call you Rukia?"

She nodded in response.

"Rukia, I'm asking you to excuse my husband's behaviour, but not to permit it. He was very much a recluse and completely unaware of his Calderon heritage until a blood-test done as part of his pre-military service unearthed the kinship. And of course, as Protector, he's rarely corrected when he transgresses in conversation."

"Ma'am, I'm just a naval officer."

"Firstly, we're on first name terms." They reached the bottom of the stairs. "Secondly, you're now the fifth-ranking officer in the Taurian Concordat Navy and Jack has taken a personal interest in your career. Unless you make some catastrophic errors, you're likely to work for him for decades. If his acting out is causing you or someone else problems then letting him know, is not only permitted, I would absolutely encourage it."

Rukia's mind had now been set to whirling. "Ma- uh, Lisa, do you say this to everyone?"

"Only people who I think can be trusted with that degree of license and would need a bit of prodding to speak up for themselves." Lisa studied her companion for a moment. "Don't get me wrong, I love the man but he has an amazing blindspot about reading people's reactions at times and the only he'll improve is if people he can trust correct his mistakes."

"Oh." Rukia was not, despite her name, raised in the traditions of Japanese culture – the ancestors of her extended family had left the Draconis Combine in the twenty-seventh century to avoid the imposition of what they viewed as restrictive and obsolete customs – and as a result the bow she offered Lisa was a sweeping western-style gesture. "Lady Calderon, I accept this dangerous mission."

"Rise, my knight and receive my favour." Rukia wasn't surprised to see a smile on Lisa's face when she looked up, but she was surprised when the first lady of the Concordat handed her a small business card. "My private number. Use it judiciously, but if you do need it, then I expect you to use it."

And I thought I had a lot to keep to myself five minutes ago, Rukia thought as the door opened and Lisa stopped, letting her proceed alone to the limousine.


	7. Book Two, Chapter Two

**Scylla Island, Lackland**

**Archy-Duchy of Filtvet**

**2 August 2577 (3 August 3031 local calendar)**

It was a tribute to the cramped quarters in which he had been held for the last previous three months that Troy Neville exited the shuttle that had carried him here from orbit with a degree of enthusiasm.

Lackland was well-named – its vast oceans were broken only by occasional chains of islands. They were also populated by some fairly aggressive sea life, which made the islands well suited to act as prison camps.

The fact that it was four jumps from the nearest Federated Suns world was another factor in its favour.

However, no facilities had existed to accommodate the prisoners and therefore they had spent much of the time not in transit from Estuan, aboard crammed transports. Neville had requested, and been permitted, to remain aboard until the last of his men had been taken to the camps: it would not have done anything for morale to have the senior surviving officer be among the first to enjoy the 'comforts' of their new prison.

Of course, it's all relative, he mused as he took his first breath of the salt-laden air. Far from a tropical paradise, Scylla was a previously unpopulated rocky island in the southern temperate belt not all that far from what passed for Lackland's antarctic circle. Upon this, concentric circles of low buildings of rough-cut limestone blocks had been erected, perhaps two hundred in number. A low wall of the same material was clearly more of a windbreak than a matter of security.

"Lovely place," he mused. "I suppose I'd better get used to it."

"It's not so bad," replied a voice from nearby and he saw George Toler, his former aide, emerge from the shadow cast by the gate in the wall. "It's dry, the wall keeps the wind to a minimum and they assure us that the fusion reactor powering our heaters is fuelled for the next six months and we have plenty of spares for breakdowns."

Neville sighed. "It could have been worse."

"Beats being shot at," George agreed laconically.

"How's morale?"

"It's been better. Having the units broken up didn't help."

Neville nodded. Shortly after their transports arrived in orbit, the guards – men and women in AFFS uniforms not so very different from theirs – had carried out a brief survey. They'd gone to some pains under the Ares Convention to make clear that there was no obligation to provide answers, but that it would assist in the provision of medical and other logistical support to the prison camps.

Neville had refused to order it to be completed, but had done so himself, leaving it to personal conscience. In retrospect it had probably been a mistake as the groups sent to each camp had obviously been picked out for commonality of origin – Capellans to one camp, Terrans to another and Lyrans to a third. Given the preponderance of AFFS soldiers, they and SLDF soldiers from the Federated Suns had been divided up by locality of origins. As a result, Neville knew that almost all the prisoners on Scylla Island originated from worlds in the rimwards regions of the Capellan March.

Why they were being divided in this fashion was unclear, but he was sure that there was a reason for it and it was probably somehow to the detriment of the Federated Suns.

"Is there any resentment about me living a life of leisure on the dropships while you came ahead?"

"Not really, sir. It's not as if we're doing hard labour. Per your orders we've got work parties making the lodges as habitable as possibly but it's basically makework. It's probably worse in the camps that don't have any women."

Neville paused. "Did I miss something?"

"Well there's the usual gender imbalance sir – only about one in five of the troops are women. As best as we can piece together through the grapevine, sixty-percent of the prison camps are all male with the others being fairly evenly divided."

"Hmm. How are the troops of for contraceptives?"

George blinked. "I have no idea, sir. I don't believe we've had any supplied."

"Do we have a liaison officer?"

"...yes, sir. Posted on the next island over: there's a field telephone linked by an undersea cable."

Neville nodded his head. "Alright. At next opportunity, request some as medical supplies. Because one way or another, George, the boys and girls are going to be spending a lot of time cooped up here and I'd rather keep the number of prison babies to a minimum."

* * *

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**3 August 2577**

"Colonel Pitcairn." Alexander Davion greeted his guest with a firm shake of the hand. "Sit down, son. You smoke?"

"Not habitually, sir." The commander of the Second Davion Guards accepted the seat. "Although if it's a condemned man's last smoke..."

"Nothing like that." Alexander picked a cigar for himself out of the box on the table. "You're sure? They're good."

"Well why not?"

"Good man." He trimmed the cigar in his hand and gave it to Pitcairn, then prepared a second for himself, lighting them both with a battered lighter with the badge of the First New Avalon Dragoons.

"I've read your record, Colonel Pitcairn. Both the one you're familiar with and one from the same era as our new Periphery March. Interesting reading."

"Sir?"

"If you weren't one of my very best, you wouldn't have the Second Guards regiment. However it seems that you would have had a long and very distinguished career ahead of you, including perhaps the most daring mission I've ever read about, even including what I asked of poor John Gordon." Alexander puffed on his cigar. "I don't have anything quite that hairy in mind for you Colonel, but it's going to be a tough one."

"You're talking about the Periphery, sir."

"I am. You know that it's ruled by a Davion, albeit a distant one. Is that going to be a problem for you, Colonel?"

"Loyalty to your family is very important to the Guards, sir. It made things very difficult back in the Civil War by all accounts."

"It did. But that wasn't my question."

"Sir, my first loyalty is to you and after that to your heirs. I'm not going to pretend I'm happy to be fighting another Davion, but I'm not about to side with a rebel."

Alexander nodded. "I'm sorry I had to ask that Colonel. I suppose that I'm not as trusting there as another man might be." He gestured to the wall where a map displayed the Inner Sphere. A recent printing, it displayed the best notion anyone had been able to piece together of where the various 'uptime' periphery states were, an arc stretching almost half-way around the Inner Sphere. "You're familiar with the strategic situation."

"I've kept up to date."

"Good. The Star League has decided to focus on dealing with the Rim Worlds Republic and the Outworlds Alliance for now. In the case of the Rim Worlds it should be quite difficult for the other states to prevent Archon Steiner-Dinesen from reaching Apollo but the Outworlds Alliance is a lot closer and we've reason to believe that support – in the form of supplies, troops and even warships – is moving between our seccessionist Outback worlds and the Alliance. Geographically it's the logical step."

Pitcairn nodded. "Agreed. It's not much more than a hundred light years across the Draconis March. Unless they're detouring well out into the Periphery, it's the most logical connection."

"Well I'm not so keen on that. Firstly because it's going to make the job of the SLDF a lot harder in the alliance and secondly because it give Hehiro Kurita ammunition to take shots at me for failing to police my own space."

"Respectfully, sir, interdicting supply lines like that would need to be done from space. While the Guards are up for a lot, BattleMechs have limited effectiveness off the ground."

"Quite right, Colonel. Unfortunately the Navy is in no position to send anything suitable to carry out such interceptions. And that's going to mean working indirectly. Those supplies have to come from somewhere and have to be sent at the expense of supporting units elsewhere. I want you to give them something else to focus on and us some victories, however small, that I can point to."

"You're talking about a raiding campaign."

"That and reconnaissance. My son Henry has visited this Periphery March but he only saw a small part of it. If it does come to open war then we'll need a better picture than that of what we're facing."

"I understand, sir. You realise that raiding isn't going to sweeten them towards you."

"Of course not. But I'm an old man. Better that I take the blame for it than Vincent. I'd appreciate it if you make the raids as clean as you can, but we both know that that's a thin margin, particularly with as little intelligence as we can give you."

"What do we know?"

"If my great-granddaughter much removed is to be believed, which the intelligence agencies are split over but I am inclined to, then she has some quite formidable militia forces. Unfortunately you will have to test that proposition the hard way."

"Isn't why you pay me my munificent salary?" Pitcairn asked wryly. "What can you spare me for the job?"

Alexander nodded his head. "Take a battalion from your regiment – handpick them if you want. The Navy can, barely, spare HMS _Tancredi_ and she has their best guess at an effective anti-missile array being fitted right now. There's room aboard for four squadrons of aerospace fighters and no shortage of volunteers from the Guards' air brigade."

Pitcairn nodded and then stared out of the window for a few minutes. "I'll need to put some more thought into this," he said. "but I'm pretty sure I can come up with a plan given a few days." He rose to his feet. "Quite the challenge. I suppose I should try to bring the Navy their shiny new ship back without too many scratches?"

"I'm sure that they'll appreciate that."

* * *

**Saso, New Syrtis**

**Capellan March, Federated Suns**

**4 August 2577**

There were new lines on Charles Wexworth's face. Losing a quarter of his command had marked him, although with desperation rather than despair.

"They're going to come here," he said confidently. "Here and Taygeta. The Taurians will want to knock out the command worlds, so we need to deny them the chance to make this an knock-out blow."

"Does that mean you want to relocate your command post, sir?" asked Daniel Luqmann.

"No, that would be too obvious." Wexworth looked at the troop pins on the map, as if he hadn't already committed his deployments to memory. "But we can pull some of the troops off Taygeta. I want to take a page from the Outworlder's book. The First Royal Division is to send one brigade here and a second – along with all Division level assets and their headquarters – back to Okains where they can act as a reserve."

"Noted sir. What are the specific orders?"

"The brigades here and on Taygeta are to make use of the subterranean forts that will be least vulnerable to an orbital bombardment. The reports from the Free Worlds League sho the Canopians were willing to target military installations with ortillery, so we must presume the same of the Taurians. If hostiles land then the defenders are to avoid decisive engagement except in defense of secure bases."

"As General Forlough experienced on Niles with the Outworlds' Wolf Dragoons regiment?"

"Precisely Luqmann." The general returned to his desk and called up a diagram of the star system. "Set up a meeting with Admiral Drum and Admiral Smythe please. We'll need to discuss the options for defending the orbital stations and the yards assuming that it's practical."

"Understood sir, I'll pencil them in for this evening if their schedules permit."

"Good. Next I want a request to go out with the next couriers to New Avalon and Terra. This is the only theatre of action so far that has seen the use of nuclear weapons so I want them to open up the strategic reserves and send us a thousand each of Class II, III and IV warheads. Have logistics check how we stand for suitable missiles to make use of the and if there's a deficiency have them made up – no, wait, make sure we have at least two thousand of each."

"Sir?"

"Think about it, Dan! We know that they have excellent missile defences, do we not? Therefore we need to overwhelm them with numbers. That isn't financially viable with nuclear weapons but we can seed the missile barrages with conventional missiles. If only there were some way to make those missiles appear to be higher target priorities for their defences."

"I don't know about that sir, but I'm sure there must be some company somewhere that would love a contract to develop such a thing."

"Now that is a good thought. Put together a recommendation and I'll countersign it." Wexworth frowned. "Too late to be of much use here, probably, but assuming we're both here in a year or two, it won't hurt your chances of promotion to think ahead like that."

"Nice to think ahead, I suppose."

"I prefer to think of it as optimism. A thousand years or so ago there was a toast among naval men: 'A Bloody War or a Sickly Season' in tribute to their hope for promotions. Well, medicine has come a long way, but we've got a bloody war alright and there's going to be room to rise for those who can give the First Lord victories... just as those who lose battles have a good chance of seeing their careers ended."

Luqmann frowned. "You don't think you might be relieved?"

"Right now? I doubt it. But I'm sure if we take another defeat I'll be removed immediately – to encourage the other commanders. It's a proven formula, Dan. I can't even say they'd be wrong in the big picture but, dammit, I don't mean to let them down again."

* * *

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**9 August 2577**

Applause, some sincere and some merely self-congratulatory, filled the great hall that had once been throne room to the First Consuls of the Rim Worlds Republic.

Now the gallery that lined one side of the chamber, facing the tall windows, provided seating for the newly selected senators of the equally new Republic. The dais that had once held the throne occupied by Gregory Amaris now supported three chairs for the Consuls who would now hold executive authority within their respective states within the Republic.

"Ladies and gentleman of the Senate." Rather confidently, Charlotte Grimm, Consul (and Queen) of the Oberon Confederation, had seated herself nearest the senate out of all three of the Consuls. "There has, as we all know, been a shadow over the formation of this Republic. That shadow is one of war. As we now face what must be considered imminent invasion by the Star League, I place before you a motion to elect a Strategos or Strategoi to command the armies of the Republic."

Hakim Wbika – formerly commander of Republican Navy and now one of the senators for the world of Luanda – rose to his feet. "I move approval of this motion be accepted by acclaimation and that we proceed immediately to nominations. Do I have a second?"

He did.

"Objections?"

Despite some uneasy stirrings, none were offered.

"Thank you, Senator Wbika." Charlotte inclined her head gracefully towards the gallery. "I would like to submit the name of John bin Bilal, Consul of the Rift Republic, as Strategos for forces responsible for protecting the attacking out of the Tamar Pact."

The Consul in question, immediately to Charlotte's right, managed to avoid exploding. He couldn't refuse without appearing unpatriotic, but had no especial military expertise which meant he'd be completely out of his depth and responsible for any failures. "Thank you, Queen Charlotte," he said instead. "I would like to also nominate you as the Strategos responsible for defending us from attacks out of Coventry Province."

"That is very gracious of you, Consul." Charlotte managed to appear regretful. "Unfortunately as I have just been confirmed as pregnant with my second child, I fear I might be unequal to such an active role. May I suggest instead Colonel Graham, formerly of the Amaris Household Guards, would be an individual of suitable experience?"

"You may," bin Bilal agreed. Dammit. She'd pushed him offworld, to all practical purposes, meaning government of the new Republic would inevitably be dominated by the other two Consuls.

"All in favour of the proposed Strategoi, please stand."

An obvious majority rose to their feet and sealed the fate of bin Bilal.

"Congratulations, Strategos." Charlotte offered her hand to the appalled Consul, who had no choice but to accept it and then shake the hand of Jervis Siever, Consul for the Rim Worlds, who sat on his other side.

* * *

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**20 August 2577**

There were drums and then a squeal of what Ian recognised from his youth as the sound of an electric guitar riff. It wasn't something that he'd expected to hear in an official video message from the Periphery.

The image that was displayed showed a simple line of six people, five in military uniforms which he now recognised as representing the Periphery states, the sixth in a simple business suit.

Over this image cut in his own voice, his own words: "We the Lords representative of the Realms of the Human Sphere -"

The preamble to the Articles of the Star League was interrupted by the lone civilian: Jack Calderon, Protector of the Taurian Concordat himself. "Stop pretending that you've never been bad. You're never wrong and you've never been dirty." His words, as much snarl as song, dripped sarcasm: "You're such a saint. That's not the way we see you."

"You want to rule us with an iron hand." Rachel Calderon-Davion pointed accusingly out towards the viewer, towards Ian. She, at least, could sing well. "You changed the rules and became a butcher. This isn't Terra, you aren't our dads and mothers."

"They never knew anyway," the blue-clad Savitri Centrella interjected slyly.

Marcus O'Reilly, cloak of imperial purple over the Marian Legions' uniform, stepped past the two women. "I never walk away from what I know is right. But I'm going to turn my back on you." And he did, cloak flaring dramatically.

The picture cut to show a plaza filled to bursting with civilians. The centre of one of their capitals? The buildings certainly looked to possess the necessary grandeur. Clearly visible over the crowd were all six Lords standing upon the balcony of one building, clearly addressing the crowd. Placards left no doubt where the sympathies of their audience lay with regard to the Star League: against it.

Overlaid across this, the song went on, all six voices raised in defiant unison. "Freedom, we're gonna ring the bell! Freedom to rock, freedom to talk! Freedom to raise our fists and yell. Freedom to rock, freedom to talk! Freedom Ring!"

The video cut back to the six leaders, the Canopian leader now taking centre stage. "You're playing God from your ivory tower. Back off Ian, I don't care for your preaching. I ain't no angel but I never felt better."

She stepped back and allowed the man presumably representing the still almost unknown Tortugan Domain to step up. "We're a distant future generation. We're not the serfs you want to make us. You better leave us alone, 'cause you sure can't take us."

Callum Avellar, the last of them to take the stage, moved forwards until he was glaring into the camera up close, the music that had backed the entire video fading back slightly. "No one gets to tell us how live our lives, we're going to do that on our own.

The refrain came again, but now it wasn't overcut with the crowd. No, this time the imagery was of a more military nature.

There were ships: big, menacing warships. Aerospace fighters flying in formation in numbers that actually _did_ at times obscure the sun above them. Tanks and blocks of parading infantry. BattleMechs.

Ian Cameron had been a soldier, a Mechwarrior. He recognised some of the 'Mechs but there were also an incredible range of others that he didn't. Worse: many showed what to him were the obvious tell-tales of the advanced technologies that had – less than a year ago – seemed to suggest that the SLDF would have an overwhelming advantage over the more primitive weapons of the Periphery.

"It's not exactly the New Sydney Philharmonic Orchestra, is it." Shandra Noruff-Cameron's expression suggested darker thoughts than her relatively casual words implied. "I hope they don't expect a reply in the same vein, because I'm sorry love, neither you nor Ian Marik can carry a tune in a bucket."

"It's different," he told her. "Rather the point, I suspect."

"Oh?"

"They don't think the way we do. They don't see events the same way we do and their reactions to those events may not mirror what we would expect."

"You mean calling you a butcher, or a would-be tyrant?"

"I've been called worse." Ian's lips quirked. Much worse, in fact. He _had_ take power rather irregularly after his brother's assassination, but out of necessity rather than any form of personal ambition. "In a way I'm glad that they've channelled their aggression into that singing because the personal letters that each has written are almost reasonable. In tone at least."

"Personal letters? An interesting term for something that they managed to mail to every news agency in the universe. I think the Dracs aren't reporting it, but even the Capellans – who certainly could quash the reports – haven't elected to do so."

Ian shrugged. "I'm going to consider that a step in the direction of Chancellor Liao allowing something resembling a free press. Something this juicy was going to leak almost immediately anyway, no matter what the Bureau of Star League Affairs did."

"There's some interesting analysis in there and I don't think all of it is the various heads of state regurgitating what they've been fed by their staffers. Savitri Centrella's letter is brutally frank: she actually applauds what she describes as the Star League's initial mission statement: Albert Marik and I wanting to put an end to the almost permanent fighting on the wars. Of course she then asserts that I've lost track of the mission in favour of focusing on my means – the Star League. The post script... well, you've read it."

"'Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity: someone gets screwed.' Canopians! No doubt it will play well with the newsbites."

"Yes, but can you imagine some script-writer suggesting to their ruler that they say something like that? They'd never have dared. That has to be something she decided on herself. I wish I had a better record of her personal history, it must be fascinating."

Shandra smiled wryly. "Turning to a younger woman? I'm heartbroken, love."

"The interest is entirely platonic, I assure you." Ian shook his head. "Then we get Rachel Davion's analysis of how the Periphery campaigns turned out in their history, with comparisons back to the Outer Reaches Rebellion two hundred and fifty years ago."

"What I wonder there is why she's spelling out the problems we had in their history." Shandra Noruff-Cameron had only briefly led the Star League Defense Forces but she had led the Hegemony Armed Forces before that for decades. "That can't do anything but help us avoid making those same mistakes."

"Probably she doesn't intend this war to be anything like that history. After all, according to their history, we win."

"After, if she's telling the truth, killing more soldiers and civilians than every other war since the invention of the Kearny-Fuchida drive... combined."

"True." That one word cost Ian Cameron more than he would have believed possible when he was 'just' a senior general. "Unfortunately there is also the letter of Jack Calderon."

Ah yes.

That letter took pride of place. It laid out the situation in stark terms: the Pollux Proclaimation had linked the Star League inextricably to the policy of forcing the Periphery in compliance with the League's government. Therefore either the Periphery submitted, which they had elected not to do, or the Star League must be destroyed.

The letter finished with an ultimatum: if the Star League disbanded of its own free will then the independent states of the periphery would be delighted to sign binding peace treaties with the various member states. The Protector had not felt it necessary to spell out the alternative.

* * *

**House of Government, Atreus**

**Marik Commonwealth, Free Worlds League**

**25 August 2577**

It was exactly three months to the day since Jacquelynn Ortega had briefed Parliament on the Magistracy of Canopus, to which she had been ambassador since 3025. Since that time she'd been being debriefed by the National Intelligence Agency on an astonishing range of topics, ranging from the history of the Succession Wars to the brands of food she had purchased when she was a student on Aitutaki in her late teens.

There was no surprise that on being summoned to see the new Captain-General there was a FWLN officer in the antechamber of the subterranean command centre beneath the League's centre of government.

But finding that she knew the officer in question _was_ a surprise. "Captain Jones?"

Grace Jones of FWLS _Harpy_ rose from her chair (institutional, thinly padded and generic) to look at her. "Ma'am?"

"Ambassador Ortega. We met three years ago when the _Harpy_ was representing the League at the Canopian Naval Review."

Jones nodded, recognition dawning. "Of course, now I remember. I'd be surprised the Canopians hadn't interned you if I wasn't still astonished that Marcus O'Reilly let me leave with the _Harpy_."

It was impossible for Ortega not to whistle softly at that revelation. "That's unbelievable, surely he would have to know that he's ceding much of his technological advantage by doing so."

"God bless that old Roman sense of honour," the Captain said. "Although maybe it's just his cruel streak: it's killing me to see the _Harpy_ opened up by what passes for dockworkers in this era."

Ortega shook her head. "It's not long since that they were pirates. Hard to think that he's representative of them all."

The door opened and an aide looked out. "Captain Jones, Ambassador Ortega, the Captain-General will see you now."

Inside, Ian Marik sat behind a towering desk and motioned the two women towards seats facing him. "Tea, coffee?" When both declined, he waved off the steward who was attending on him with a small tea trolley and also the aide.

"Thank you for both coming," he said, as if they'd had any reasonable alternative to accepting their respective summons. "I'd like your opinion of the Star League's proposed strategy over the next year." Ian pushed folders across the desk to them, each clearly only containing a few sheets of paper. "Obviously, this is highly classified."

Ortega skimmed the documents and then went back over few points she felt needed more scrutiny while Jones apparently preferred to read the entire document steadily. Of course, as a military officer, some of the terminology probably was more familiar to her, the diplomat thought.

"There are a couple of things that stand out, sir," Jones began. "Firstly, it assumes a degree of passivity on the part of the Canopians. My own experience is that the Magestrix feels warfare is better practised on worlds outside her own domain. The business on Tellman's World is an excellent example."

"Do you agree, Ambassador?"

"I do, sir. The Magestrix is extremely protective of her industries and civilian population. She will not want any confrontation to take place inside the Magistracy or the Duchy of Andurien."

"I was afraid you'd say that. And the Marians?"

"Hard to guess, but my suspicion is that they will be looking to use the Rim Worlds to tie up Star League resources. Expect that campaign to be rather harder than this anticipates. It was the second longest-fought theatre in the Reunification War."

"Damn. Is there any chance that we can convince them to side with us," Ian asked. "We were allies in the thirty-first century, after all."

Ortega frowned. "I wouldn't rule it out but you'd have to make a very solid offer."

"So you don't think he could be convinced to join the Free Worlds League as another province?" Ian asked. "Because perhaps I'm guilty of some over-optimism, but allowing the _Harpy_ to come home to us... even without some of her databanks..."

"That probably is over-optimistic, sir." Jones leant forwards, ignoring the comment on the paucity of electronic records the _Harpy_ had provided about the Marians. "I don't think you quite appreciate how unpopular the Star League is in the Periphery. I wouldn't have entirely ruled out the possibility of an eventual merger in the thirty-first century but that was really extraordinary given that it was based on Kristen Marik establishing a close relationship despite the Caesar having killed her half-brother Thomas back in '25."

"So what do you recommend then, Captain?"

"Honestly sir? Play the diplomatic game and hope like hell that the Lucies and the Crappies get themselves carved up."

"Am I detecting a bit of aggression towards our allies in the Star League?" asked the Captain-General.

She held up two fingers, one on each hand. "Perhaps just a smidgen, sir. We have history."

"Part of that history is that right now, we're allies. Try to keep that in mind."

"Sir, I'm going to be straight up: with an ally like Viola Steiner-Dinesen you don't need enemies."

* * *

**The Triad, Tharkad City**

**Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth**

**29 August 2577**

"This is ridiculous," Henry Gram protested as he was dragged physically from his office. "I am the Speaker of the Estates-General. You can't arrest me on trumped-up charges of some crime that you yourself say I wouldn't even commit for years."

Viola Steiner-Dinesen gestured sharply. "The Estates-General have only the power that I grant it."

"This is not justice, this is tyranny!"

"Think yourself grateful – according to our information on these events I crushed you under the foot of my _Warhammer_. That remains an option." The Archon nodded to the guards. "Take him away."

"He has a point though." The Archon's husband, Robert Dinesen, had been silent witness to the arrest. "Putting him on trial for crimes he hasn't committed yet sets a worrying precedent that his supporters in the Estates-General will rally against."

"They won't have the chance." Viola turned on her heel and started walking back towards the Royal Apartments. "The same historical information that that LIC recovered from that thirty-first century trading vessel showed me that the Estates General cannot be entrusted with the well-being of the Lyran Commonwealth. They would actually seek it's very dissolution during Kevin's reign."

Robert fell in step alongside her. "That's true, but whether we like it or not, they are seen as the voice of the common Lyran."

"What does the common Lyran know?" She shook her blonde head. "I will put my trust in faithful nobles such as yourself long before I trust that chiselling pack of merchants."

"That still leaves the question of who will govern the Commonwealth while you're commanding the fighting in the Rim Worlds. At the risk of sounding self-aggrandising, Kevin isn't ready for the responsibility."

"I know. Fortunately learning of the future permits that I may learn from my own future mistakes. Duke Kelswa and Duke Lestrade will no doubt learn of -" She paused. "Of the errors that I would make. By appointing them alongside Kevin as a triumvirate of regents in my absence, I will show them that I will place more trust in them than I did then."

It was hard for Robert to hide his disappointment at not being included among the regents. "I'm sure it will give Kevin the chance to learn from both of them."

"And from you as well. Please advise him well, Robert. This is his chance to make a good impression on the leadership of the Commonwealth."

"Of course." He looked out the window. "I'd like to go with you as far as Coventry though. I have responsibilities there that could benefit from some personal attention and it'll let him get his feet wet without his old man looking over his shoulder."

"If you think it would be best. I'm not leaving immediately – it's probably best not to take regiments of the Skye Rangers or the Tamar Tigers so the LCAF is shuffling deployments. It will be at least a month before the replacement regiments will be ready to leave."

"That might undercut the gesture of offering trust to Kelswa and Lestrade, don't you think? Who have you picked instead?"

"The Nineteenth Arcturan Guards and Fifteenth Lyran Guards." Viola touched his arm. "Don't worry so, Robert. They'll understand that I want their regiments on hand to protect Kevin if need be."

"If you think best," Robert agreed, but silently he was less sanguine. Arresting Gram and disbanding the Estates-General would send shockwaves through the Lyran establishment and it was politicians like the Speaker who would be the greatest threat to their family in the future, not military forces.

I'll need to bring some Dinesens back with me from Coventry, he thought. I'll need family I can rely on to protect my children, rather than their Steiner cousins, all of whom have their own eyes on the throne.

* * *

**New Syrtis System**

**Capellan March, Federated Suns**

**11 October 2577**

It wasn't the first time that the Taurian Concordat Navy had entered this star-system in full battle array. That occasion – three years ago, or four hundred and fifty-two years from now depending on how it was counted – had been a scheduled wargame, pitting the First (Hyades) Fleet of the TCN against the Second Fleet of the Federated Suns Navy.

That exercise had been a success for the Taurians and a black eye for Arch-Duke Nathaniel Hasek.

This time it was in deadly earnest.

The first move was the same that they had used before: operating in pairs, New Vandenberg-class corvettes appeared at six pirate points around the system, taking advantage of detailed mapping carried out by the SLDF in this era and still on record in archives that had survived the centuries that followed.

Since the SLDF did not know of that exercise, they did not follow the FSN strategy (nor would they have done given the records, given it had failed) but instead had improvised and adapted. The pirate points nearest to New Syrtis including all five in its own orbit or that of its moon, were defended by satellites rigged with racks of missiles little different from those that had been used by the TCN at Estuan.

Still orientating themselves from the jump, the anti-missile defences of the corvettes did their best... and it was a very good best indeed. Even in this case they averaged ninety percent success in the three instances where they were attacked.

Unfortunately, with nuclear weapons, ninety percent isn't good enough.

Each satellite had automatically targeted the nearest corvette and that had been the death of TCS _Weippe_ and TCS _Armington_. Corvettes were simply too small to survive a direct hit. TCS _Jamestown_ had been luckier, the hit burning away a swathe of armour along one flank, but causing relatively little internal damage. She could still move and, if absolutely necessary, fight.

That was something that was proven immediately as the crews of the four surviving corvettes in each of the three small battlegrounds brought weapons to bear and destroyed the satellites, regardless of the fact that all had expended their complete onboard armament in that brief orgy of destruction.

Then, confident of their security, the surviving eight ships grimly set about identifying and reporting every man-made structure, mobile or otherwise, that their sensors could pick up around the system.

First blood had gone to the Star League, but the Taurian mission was information and they owed it to their dead to ensure that that mission was a success.

"It feels odd to leave their scouts untouched." Wexworth's current point of view lacked the view of his office, but there was no shortage of holographic displays to reveal the situation in space, and in compensation the command centre was several hundred metres below the surface of New Syrtis, rendering it relatively proof against bombardment.

"There's no point, if we send anything out they can just call their main force in – and with the ships there, jumping at the same points would be far too dangerous." Admiral Drum shook his head. "We'd be letting them lure into another trap. Let's let them pull away from the pirate point before we move."

"How much can they see?"

"From those locations? The entirety of New Syrtis' orbit, multiple angles on the shipyards... most of the interesting bits of the system. They've got excellent navigational data."

Wexworth nodded. "Not surprising. What now?"

"Now?" Drum shrugged. "Their move. Probably move a force in at one of the near jump-points that they know has already been cleared of threats. We can send a message to one of the jumpships lurking out-system if you want, but there's not much point. A few corvettes, even loaded up with nuclear weapons, don't pose a direct threat to the system."

Wexworth had been careful not to keep too many warships in the system. A few dropships and jumpships of the Federated Suns Navy remained, the bare handful that the general had been unable to convince Duke Halverson to despatch for the Crucis March, now another potential theatre of combat. There were also a handful of Star League destroyers, mostly stationed at the warship yards where work crews had been hastily attempting to refit them with defences against missile attacks.

Otherwise the only traffic was the usual commercial shipping found near any industrial system and lying quietly in remote corners of the system, a handful of stealthy courier jumpships were waiting to communicate with the rest of universe. Only a new arrival would be obvious to the corvettes.

"How long do you think it will be?"

Drum shook his head. "Hard to say. But if they take too long then they might get suspicious about the traffic patterns. Let's hope they whoever they answer to isn't a patient man."

* * *

Light years away, Benoit Cyscoe – commander of the Taurian Third Fleet – wouldn't have catagorised himself as being impatient. But he was on a schedule, which could easily amount to the same thing.

"No major forces there. They could very well be playing the same game as Hasek did."

He hadn't been a participant in that exercise but it had been well-reported how the Arch-Duke had held his own forces a jump away, emerging from the same pirate point that First Fleet had used, right to their rear and savaging the Taurian rear-guard before being overwhelmed.

"That is possible, sir, although it would be quite a coincidence." Eric Hickmann, the Admiral's aide, had served on that exercise although he hadn't much enjoyed it much since the dropship he'd commanded had been ruled destroyed trying to screen a carrier.

Cyscoe steepled his fingers. "Or of course they may simply not have serious forces here. No one can be strong everywhere. We'll proceed with operation plan Murat Three, T-Time as twenty-one hundred hours today."

"Understood sir." Hickmann activated a microphone. "All ships, message from flag. Operation Murat Three is live, counting from T-Time as twenty-one hundred, I repeat twenty-one hundred, this day."

Around them, dozens of warships confirmed readiness to jump from their respective locations to others within the New Syrtis star system. They had been ready for hours but now, with less than twenty minutes to go, there was a rush of NCOs and junior officers making sure again.

And then, in a rush of radiation, cutters began jumping out, heading for their destinations.

* * *

On New Syrtis, the first warning was the corvettes moving out of the pirate points.

"All of them?"

Drum nodded. "It took a few minutes for us to see what was happening further out, but they're all baking room for arrivals. Of course, unless they're splitting their forces, we can assume thatmost are just acting as decoys. I suspect we'll see one or maybe two points being using, the rest is just to keep us guessing in case we have something clever planned."

They watched the icons move fractionally on the master display until new ones began appearing. "Jump signatures, sir. Ships, lots of them."

"Two of them." Drum looked at the icons appearing at transient points around the L1 point. "Permission to be clever, sir."

"Permission granted."

"Initiate Operation Hatchet."

Wexworth deliberately did not look at the effects of that order upon the Star League forces. Instead he looked at the developing threat assessments of the ships arriving. The lighter cutters were followed by larger ships – frigates and cruisers for the most part. It was already plain that the main force was arriving at the transient points although a few moments later a decidedly secondary element was reported to be emerging at the Zenith point.

"General, you have a call from Admiral Smythe."

Looking up, he saw member of the communications staff holding a handset. Accepting it, Wexworth answered: "This is Wexworth."

"General, this is Harry Smythe. I have been ordered to engage the Taurian fleet."

It took a moment for the meaning of the remark to sink in and then Wexworth's eyes darted to the display of ships and stations around New Syrtis. In addition to the unfolding of Operation Hatchet, he could see nine Leopard CV dropships beginning to accelerate towards the L3 pirate point. "Admiral, I've given no such order."

"I haven't received the orders from your side of the chain of command."

Halverson! That damn inbred cretin! "Harry, you don't have a chance in hell. This is suicide."

Harry's voice was strained. "I have my orders, sir. My fighters are carrying nukes, so we might land a punch or two." Unspoken was the fact that after that, the entire FSN force would be destroyed. "We're going to try to mask Hatchet for you, as much as we can. Might improve the odds a bit."

The hell of it was, Wexworth could see how it would help. A forlorn hope of fighters would attract a lot of attention from the unfolding of the Hatchet. But, almost to Wexworth's surprise, the loss of the fighters and their pilots, not to mention the support crews and carrier dropships was not something he felt that that advantage merited.

"Look, Harry, hold off. Just cut your ships' thrust while I contact the Duke. I'll talk him around."

"Charles, I don't claim to know how it is in the Star League Defense Force, but in the Federated Suns Navy orders from a senior officer are obeyed by their juniors and my orders do not give me latitude. Besides which, if you think the Duke can be dissuaded by anything you or I say then I have to wonder how you've managed to spend a year on New Syrtis without meeting him."

Wexworth couldn't help but smile ruefully. He had met the Duke of New Syrtis. Jasper Halverson could be diplomatically described as determined. Less politely, the words 'stubborn' and 'bloodyminded' came to mind.

His jaw worked as he tried to force himself to say 'good luck'.

Smythe seemed to understand. "Quite. See you on the other side, Charles. Don't feel you have to rush."

The line went dead abruptly. Wexworth couldn't help but feel that it was a bad omen.

* * *

**New Syrtis System**

**Capellan March, Federated Suns**

**12 October 2577**

The Federated Suns _Centurion_ aerospace fighters didn't manage to get into firing range of the main Taurian force.

That wasn't to say that they didn't manage to get their strikes in. In Cyscoe's opinion the fighters were being expended by a commander who didn't or wouldn't grasp the futility of the gesture. So he gave them the respect due a foe: sending a mixed group of nine cutters and corvettes forward to clear them aside. Those ships alone carried three times the number of Federated Suns aerospace fighters, and their loads were skewed towards _Tiger_s that laughed at the lasers of the _Centurion_s and danced around the nuclear missiles, picking them apart with arrogant ease.

Then one _Tiger_ disintegrated into splinters as a fast moving kinetic projectile, made specifically of radar-absorbant materials, smashed through it at thousands of kilometres per hour.

The others scattered, giving the _Centurion_s a brief opening. Two of them managed to dart ahead, daring the other kinetic projectiles that had been propelled onto this vector by freight dropships commandeered for the exact purpose of Operation Hatchet. TCS _Pericles_, busy raking apart the dropship FCS _Sparrow_ with capital lasers turned its secondary guns upon the fighters and the general approach of the kinetic killers, sending sparks flying off the latter and shredding the former.

But not before at least one of the pair fired off a missile tipped with a single Class II warhead. Sheer luck – the _Pericles_ missile defences being focused for the most part in hammering at the almost invisible kinetic strikes as it fired its thrusters to evade the lethal cloud – allowed the missile to make contact and the five kiloton nuclear explosion shattered its port flank, along with most of the armament across one side.

That was the extent of the damage though and the _Pericles_ rolled gracefully to make use of the undamaged turrets along the starboard side of the cutter as it clawed away from the threat. The little cutter made it clear, but the corvette TCS _Carmichael_ was less fortunate, having been closer to the centre of the attack pattern and were a hair too slow. Warship armour was tough, but the engines had to be exposed and a hundred ton mass, even with a glancing hit, could do considerable damage. _Carmichael_ limped away, struggling to slow down so she could regroup with the rest of the little force.

Far behind them, the main Taurian force, already moving out of the L3 pirate point and turning towards the L4 location, where the relatively neutral gravitational pulls had been exploited to build the primary New Syrtis shipyards, altered course slightly to avoid intersecting the still distant weapons.

* * *

A secondary plot displayed an overview of all of Third Fleet's operations but Cyscoe wasn't paying more than occasional attention to it.

One of his carrier groups and it's reinforced screening elements were operating at the zenith jump point, but they might as well have been in another star system entirely for all he could do influence events there. How that operation turned out was in the hands of the local commander.

Similarly, though he had a paternal interest, the tiny group of escorts supporting his cripples and recovering ejected pilots of both sides from the brief clash the previous night was in no need of his micro-management.

"It's time," he ordered quietly and watched darkly as his formation split again. Division of forces, opening himself to defeat in detail if the Star League had a major force in readiness.

But somehow he didn't think that they did.

While the core of his force remained in a distinct orbit clear of any immediate threat but ready to respond to an attack on any of its subordinate formations, task groups broke off. One was escorting the transports of the Special Asteroid Support Force as they prepared to take control of the shipyards. The second was moving into a much closer orbit of New Syrtis, in not so veiled promise of what was to come.

"Open up one of the SLDF frequencies," he ordered. "Record me and then transmit what I say in the clear."

"You're live sir."

Cyscoe eyed the microphone as if it was a poisonous serpent and then squared his soldiers. "This is the commander of the Taurian Second Fleet to the local SLDF commander. Sir, my fleet now controls the orbitals of New Syrtis. My orders do not require me to take any action with regard to the surface of New Syrtis or to armed forces located upon it."

"Notwithstanding this fact, should my forces come under attack by dropships or other aerospace assets launched from the surface then I will order without hesitation that any facility operated by the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns and the Star League Defence Force that are not protected under the Ares Conventions by proximity to a concentration of civilian population to be destroyed utterly. Any breach of the Ares Conventions as specified in 2412 will be met with similar retaliation at my discretion. So long as these circumstances are met, no one on the surface need consider themselves under threat by the Taurian Concordat."

A nod to the communications officer and the channel was closed. "We'll see what that provokes," he mused, watching the ships seem to crawl as they moved towards their destinations.

Minutes passed without response and then tens of minutes. It was almost an hour later, with the two task forces more than half-way to their destinations when the communications officer reported: "Sir we've got a signal from the planet. Same channel as before but using one of the old codes."

"Pipe it through."

There was a crackle and then a voice with the slight accent of someone who'd been raised to speak anglo-french alongside standard English. "This is Jasper Halverson, Duke of New Syrtis. I hope you're happy, you Taurian batard. We've got everything short of riots jamming the roads around anything that looks strategic much less military. What are you going to do next, steal the population's dogs?"

Cyscoe gestured to the officer. "Put me back on."

"In the clear?"

"Oh yes." He leant over the microphone. "Well Duke Halverson, it seems to me that since they would only be under threat if you were callously disregard their safety and launch an attack from New Syrtis upon us. We both know that such an attack would accomplish nothing except to satisfy your wounded pride. If your citizens believe that you are likely to put them at risk for the sake of that, then you, sir, have larger problems than my presence."

The admiral closed the connection with a certain satisfaction.

"Sir, another message."

"A reply? I must be losing my touch. Surely he's not calm enough to speak clearly already."

"It's a different point of origin, sir. The speaker identifies himself as General Wexworth."

"Well put him through."

Unlike the previous message, this came with a video signal as well and Cyscoe saw a face familiar to him from historical records. "I presume that you are the commander of the Taurian forces in this system, sir."

"I am sir. And you would be General Wexworth."

"That is correct Admiral. I see that I have a measure of fame. Of a sort, anyway."

"What can I do for you today, General?"

"I am simply calling to advise you that earlier today I had cause to station SLDF soldiers at all military bases currently active on New Syrtis. Those soldiers now have orders to ensure that no material attacks are launched from those bases. Unless you land troops upon New Syrtis or in some manner contravene the same Ares Conventions that you have cited to me, I will not amend those orders."

"You understand that this will not apply to forces elsewhere in the system? And that I will continue to exercise control of those forces from my command post here?"

"General, your terms are accepted," Cyscoe said tersely.

There was an awkward silence and then the video channel cut off abruptly. Cyscoe nodded thoughtfully to himself. "Cornet, advise Commodores Das and Starr that they should expect resistance at the shipyards."

The report from Commodore Starr was not a welcome one.

"No active resistance, sir. No one there at all, so far as I can tell. A pair of shuttles made it to a jumpship before we entered weapons range and then the ship jumped away. Of course they left a lot of passive problems – computer cores gone, critical control links severed, a veritable minefield of booby traps. It'll take days just to clear it and weeks to make repairs – for that matter, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the structural members are compromised."

"So the whole yard's worthless?" While the jumpship yards were not the most valuable part of New Syrtis' orbital infrastructure, they were pretty high up the list.

When the transmission reached his location and then returned to Cyscoe, moments later, Starr's image on the screen shrugged. "Repairs are certainly possible, sir, but without a map of every bit of sabotage, it'll take a long time."

"And no doubt such a list is on New Syrtis right now so they can put it back in operation as soon as we go. Of course, that assumes we don't stay..."

On the screen, still live while Starr waited for the reply to reach him, the Commodore jerked his face away from the camera. No longer directed at the microphone, his voice was indistinct but Cyscoe was sure he heard the words 'point defense'."

"Fight your battle, Commodore," the Admiral said and then cut off the transmission. No use jogging Starr's elbow when he had a crisis on his hands. Instead he gave his other areas of activity a quick look on the tactical plot and only then moved over to look over the shoulder of the senor operators for that arc of the sky.

"Sir, multiple nuclear detonations at the zenith jump point."

Cyscoe took a deep breath and went back to his chair, straightening his jacket. "Record a message for transmission. Don't send it yet, just hold it ready."

"Aye sir."

"This Admiral Benoit Cyscoe of the Taurian Concordat Navy. The ships under my command will shortly destroy any military or industrial facility in this system that is more than seventy-five thousand kilometres from the surface of New Syrtis. In the interests of avoiding any unnecessary loss of life, I strongly advise that when my ships arrive that anyone aboard those facilities take the opportunity to be somewhere else."

The communications officer waited a moment to make sure that that was all and then closed the file. "On record sir, ready to send whenever you want." He checked his console. "Commodore Starr is reporting in."

"Put him on."

The screen lit up and the grim face of Commodore Starr appeared. "Admiral, I regret to advise you that several cargo containers at the shipyards contained improvised one-shot launchers for Alamo missiles. The shuttles carrying the second wave of assault troops and combat engineers have taken heavy casualties. Regrettably, two ships returned fire."

If Cyscoe's dark skin could have paled noticeably then it would have. There were over two thousand SASF and naval engineers attached to Starr's force. He didn't want to contemplate what 'heavy casualties' meant when applied to those men and women in lightly armoured shuttles that lacked military point defense.

"The first wave, already aboard the shipyards, have taken an as yet undetermined number of a casualties. The yards have no lost structural integrity. It is my intention to evacuate all survivors and I request permission to then destroy the yards which now pose a navigational hazard."

Cyscoe leant forwards. "Commodore, you have permission to destroy the yards. I anticipate a full report from the crews responsible for this friendly fire incident."

Then he turned to the communications officer. "That signal I just recorded, send it out on the emergency channels. On repeat until I tell you otherwise."

The sight of Star League Navy destroyers departing docks at the L4 warship yards before the Taurian task force arrived was not a satisfying one. Yes, the Star League's military was running. But they weren't running scared. They'd make it away via the pirate point and fight another day.


	8. Book Two, Chapter Three

**Helbrent**

**Rim Worlds Republic**

**19 October 2577**

The Sixth Amaris Legionnaires had marched through the cold desert night to avoid stressing the heatsinks of their BattleMechs but this meant that they would be forced to fight under the sun now. Major Janalynn Pajitnov happened to think that that was foolishness, but Colonel Mion was intent on reaching the enemy before they could move too far from their dropships and so Janalynn was slowly baking inside the cockpit of her Taurian-import _Talos_.

Hipparch tanks of the cavalry squadrons ranged out ahead of the three columns of infantry carriers – trucks essentially – and the BattleMechs escorting them. The cavalrymen had been sent out with the expectation that they would find trouble and it was no surprise that they succeeded.

"Mechanical noises picked up ahead. Distance perhaps fourteen kilometres from you, dead ahead."

Janalynn checked who was speaking. "Confirmed Outrider Four. Check it out." Then she switched to the command channel. "Legion Six. Possible contact reported, estimated fourteen kilometres ahead of my column. I request permission to take battle formation."

"Negative, Legion Two. Permission is denied until contact with the enemy is confirmed."

"Six, I don't have any Marsdens with me so we can change formation without slowing. Staying in column could easily have my 'Mechs chopped apart like a sausage." Even the eight Talos in her own company could outpace the heavy tanks in the other two battalions that were setting the pace for the entire regiment. The lances of _Phoenix_s in Baker and Charlie companies were even faster.

"Negative, I repeat, negative. Just obey orders, Tagmatarchis."

Tagmatarchis, her actual rank rather than the English equivalent commonly used. These days it was more closely associated with the RRA. Janalynn had been part of the RRA until it was banned. Even quitting at that point hadn't erased the stigma from her record. She cut the channel back to the recon screen. "Outriders, what have you got for us?"

"Getting closer, ma'am. Magscan says we're looking at a lot of tonnage there could be a whole regi-" The report cut off abruptly.

"Outrider. Outrider!" Janalynn grit her teeth. "Outrider Five, check on Outrider Four. Be aware he may be under fire." She examined the terrain ahead and then switched to battalion command. "Take up battle formation. Infantry prepare to take up position on the valley sides."

With smooth efficiency the sixteen Battlemechs under her command fanned out into a double line, trucks moving up behind them. At some point in the geologically remote past, a glacier had carved out a valley through what was now desert mountains, creating an obvious route through them. If it had been better placed with regard to the major settlements, no doubt there would be a road here.

"Legion Two, this is Outrider Five. We have smoke and... under fire, multiple hostile 'Mechs! Five, I repeat five, BattleMechs. Magscan says this is just a vanguard."

"Give me an estimate, Outrider."

"Looks like a battalion to me, Legion. They're too hot to handle, I've gotta get clear."

"Do it, Outrider." Janalynn punched the button to change channel. "Six, this is Legion Two. My scouts are under fire from an estimated battalion. I'm moving to secure the mouth of the Lysander valley."

To his credit, Mion didn't question her this time. "Confirmed, Legion Two. I'm bringing my battalion to back you up. Third Battalion will take a side valley and try to outflank them."

It took almost a quarter of an hour for the invaders to arrive, which was good because Mion managed to get there in less than ten minutes, bringing with him eight more _Talos_ and sixteen Lyran-built heavy tanks, along with additional infantry platoons and the regiment's tracked missile launcher vehicles.

The first sight of the invaders did not inspire confidence in the Sixth Legionnaire's ability to withstand them. For a start there were rather more than a battalion of them.

For another, their force appeared to be entirely made up of BattleMechs.

The enemy 'Mechs were moving strangely – two thunderous steps and then a little skip that brought both feet down together. There must have been almost a hundred of them, although such a motley of designs that Janalynn for a moment thought that each was unique before realised that they apparently mixed different designs in each lance. The warbook picked out mostly Terran designs – _Wasp_s, _Griffins_ and _Mackie_s but also several of the _Toro_ design that the Taurian Concordat had refused to export to the Rim Worlds. There were other designs that she couldn't identify, such as a great skull-headed powerhouse that led the centre of their line.

Nonetheless they moved in terrifying unison and each little sequence of steps brought them ten metres closer.

And then, from the external speakers, the leaders seemed to sing out. Rationally, she knew that it was the mechwarriors inside doing the singing. Irrationally, it seemed as if heavy-footed choir of metal giants was charging at her battalion, singing:

"Buddy you're boy make a big noise. Playin' in the street, gonna be a big man some day. You got mud on your face, you big disgrace. Kicking your can all over the place. Sing it!"

Like thunder, amplified to what must have been their maximum volume to be heard over the footsteps of their 'Mechs, the entire legion roared out:

"WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU."

"WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU."

And then they opened fire on the Rim Worlds 'Mechs.

The rocky ground of the valley didn't give much cover and what little there was had been occupied by the tanks, which needed to protect their vulnerable tracks. As a result, the out-numbered _Talos_ and _Phoenix_s were exposed to withering fire as they tried to fight back.

For Janalynn the relative satisfaction of seeing her long range missiles peeling armour off the arm of a _Wasp_ was more than counterbalanced by the pair of _Griffin_s that it was apparently scouting for tearing gaping holes in her defences with their PPCs before peppering her with their own LRMs. The armour diagram on her status monitor made it clear that another combined salvo could easily penetrate and her right torso, with two cavernous ammunition bins, was looking particularly vulnerable.

The Major turned her _Talos_ to screen the damaged flank, bringing the right arm autocannon around to fire, not at the _Griffin_s but at the _Wasp_. With the smaller 'Mech already damaged, it was possible that the powerful cannon could cripple it immediately. Unless the invaders were whittled down quickly, it was unlikely that Third Battalion could arrive in time to turn the tide – besides, with the temperatures outside rising, the _Griffin_s would probably have to let their machines cool before they could fire their PPCs again.

She was half-right. Either the autocannon shells or the pattern of SRMS she sent after it – the burning heat inside her cockpit seeming to suck the air from her lungs – found something critical inside _Wasp_, which toppled onto the ground and did not rise. It wasn't alone though: the _Griffin_s had continued to fire their full arsenal into Janalynn's _Talos_ and the battered 'Mech fell onto its damaged side as the sheer brutal pounding tore away entire tons of protection from it.

Janalynn closed her eyes as she felt the balance reach tipping point. Ejecting in mid-fall would be risky at best, but if the fall set off the ammunition in the chest of the _Talos_...

Blackness.

When Janalynn opened her eyes, she had to blink away blood that covered her face. The straps restraining her to the command couch must have snapped because she was lying on the side of her cockpit. The fact she wasn't blasted to bits made it clear that the ammunition bins were intact, although if the battle was still raging then that might not last.

A quick look around made it clear that she wasn't going to be standing the 'Mech up again, even if she was desperate enough to make the attempt without proper restraints. The armour around the cockpit was visibly deformed and although the fusion reactor was still humming audibly, virtually none of the controls were lit up.

With a groan Janalynn wrestled the remains of the restraints away. While none of her bones appeared broken, her body was advising her rather bluntly of a considerable amount of bruising. Climbing out would not be fun, unless she could get the hatch open.

She was about to get to work on that when a thump betrayed that something had just landed on top of the fallen _Talos_. A moment later two metal claws punched through the hatch and tried to yank it out. Janalynn yelped – not screamed, she was a military officer and definitely not a screamer – and pressed herself against the floor, which was now the opposite wall.

"Centurion!" a male voice shouted from above. "Sounds like we've got a live one." There was a clang on the hatch, as if someone had banged on it with a wrench. "Hey, rescue crew's here. Are you hurt?"

Janalynn glanced out of the canopy but could not make out who might be there. "Nothing serious. Who are you?"

"Like I said, rescue crew." The voice paused. "From your perspective, I guess I'm on the wrong side. Do you surrender or do I have to... well, you know."

"Are you asking for surrender under the terms set out in the Ares Convention?" she called back, looking for the survival pack built into her ejection seat. There should be a knife in there. No gun though. Janalynn made a mental note to keep one with her in the cockpit in the future, assuming she ever got the chance again.

"As long as you're surrendering according to those conventions, sure."

"Good enough for me. Are you going to keep vandalising the hatch or can I try undogging it?"

There was a laugh. "Ladies first."

Wincing, Janalynn moved forward and started turning the handle for the manual controls – somehow, she didn't think that the powered controls would work. One of the four bolts had apparently been sheared away at some point – probably by whatever those claws were – because it popped free immediately but with some effort, she was unable to unlock the other three.

At that point, of course, the hatch proceeded to stick. "It's not locked, but I think it's jammed."

"Okay, I've got this one." Janalynn stood back a little and watched as the claws were jammed through again and then dragged the hatch clear.

Blinking away tears as the bright desert sun entered the cockpit, unfiltered by the darkened canopy glass, it took her a moment to realise the mechanised nature of her rescuer. "What the hell... are you a robot?"

"Nope." The metal-clad man banged one clawed gauntlet against his chest. "This is battle armour. Welcome to the warfare of the thirty-first century."

* * *

**Ducal Palace, Jojoken**

**Andurien, Duchy of Andurien**

**19 October 2577 (18 October 3032 local calendar)**

Andurien, bone of contention between the Free Worlds League and the Capellan Confederation for well over a century and a half, was a stranger to Brion Marik.

Even before the events of the last year it would have changed from when his family was here during his father's posting as a junior officer in the FWLM. Being handed over to the Capellans would have had an effect on the world.

Four and a half centuries had had even more effect. The very Ducal Palace, ancient as it was, hadn't even been thought of in his day. It had been built by the Humphrey Dukes in the twenty-ninth century, after Andurien was won back to the Free Worlds League in the First Succession War.

"How much of this is your work?" he asked sweeping one arm out to indicate the city visible from the balcony he was seated on.

Savitri Centrella sat up slightly to look over it. "More than I'd prefer. Mostly in redevelopment after the Capellan Crisis. The hospital complex over there. A couple of others. In general though, Andurien's been quite successful without my needing to intervene. Which is how it should be – governing best by governing least and all that."

"You believe that?"

"No, I'm congenitally lazy." She leant back again in her chair. "So, Duke Marik. What brings you back to my realm. Should I worry about your wife sending assassins after me?"

He shook his head. "No. You don't have to worry about that. She'd have come with me, but she's pregnant."

"Congratulations. There's a lot of that going around."

"Oh?" Brion looked at her. "It doesn't show?"

Savitri shook her head. "Technology is a handy thing. I went the natural route with Ehlana, that's fair penance to my mother for suffering through that. The baby's in a nice secure medical lab and will stay there for another eight months."

"Congratulations then." Brion looked over the city a second time. "Firstly, as it may influence your decision-making, the Star League Council has voted to reinstate the Ares Conventions."

"Smart of them. As long as they stick to that, so will we."

"That is the hope. Now, as you may imagine, I'm here with an offer."

The Magestrix ran one hand through her long dark hair. "An offer of what and from whom?"

"My father wrote the offer, but he has the support of Ian Cameron and they assure me they can secure enough votes on the Star League Council to be sure of honouring it."

Savitri took a deep breath, held it a moment and then exhaled. "You have my attention."

"What we're asking is for the Magistracy of Canopus, including the Duchy of Andurien, to join the Star League as a full and equal member. We would require in that case the release of all prisoners from Tellman's Mistake and that the Magistracy accept the responsibilities that membership entails, just as it will enjoy the privileges. I'm sure you don't need me to point out the benefits of membership for your economy."

"Besides those benefits, the Free Worlds League is willing to concede the worlds of Cole Harbour, Guangzho and Antipolo – all of which currently consider themselves part of the Duchy of Andurien, to your daughter as Duchess of Andurien."

"Similar offers are being extended to other Periphery states, but even if they refuse but you agree, my father and the Director-General will support you in any vote against military action to force the other states to enter the Star League. As Chancellor Liao currently opposes the war, this would almost certainly constitute a majority vote."

Brion met Savitri's eyes. "You could end the Reunification War."

* * *

**Helbrent**

**Rim Worlds Republic**

**19 October 2577**

The flag above the encampment was white, with an armoured warrior depicted snarling out from it. A snap of wind let Janalynn see the scrollwork above, which bore the legend 'Marian League'.

"Is that a battle honour?" she asked. She'd been allowed to take a painkiller from her survival kit and she wasn't aware she might be a bit fuzzy.

"What?"

"On your flag it says Marian League."

"Oh. No, that's us." Her captor looked slightly embarrassed. "Whoops, forgot the formalities. You are a prisoner of the Fifth Marian Legion of Battle Armour, the Falcons of Paulinus. I have the honour to be Legionaire Julius Hong of First Maniple, Third Century, First Cohort. Ave."

"Tagmatarchis Janalynn Pajitnov, Sixth Amaris Legionnaires."

Hong tilted his head in thought. "Tagmatarchis? Is that your name or rank?"

"Rank. I'm a battalion commander, or at least I was. I thought you were from Oberon."

"Oberon?" He frowned. "Wait... Oberon is... We gotta talk to the Principes." Hong grabbed her shoulder – the less bruised one, fortunately – and steered her away from the tents where most of the other Legionnaire captives were stockaded.

The Principes was the sort of officer who would be wearing his rank visibly even without the uniform. Not the rank pins, just the authority. Just looking at him Janalynn could guess that he'd been commanding small, isolated units for at least ten years.

"Dammit, Hong, I don't care if you've made a girlfriend at long last. Take her to the stockade, we're not playing fast and loose with the Ares Conventions."

"Sir, it's nothing like that." Hong gestured towards Janalynn. "She thought we were from Oberon."

"From Oberon. Why would..." The Principes ran one hand through his thinning hair. "The Confederaton shouldn't exist in this era, so they must have been sent back in time as well. What in universe are they up to?"

"Tearing the Republic apart," Janalynn told him, somewhat bitterly. "They say she murdered the First Consul herself."

"In all honesty, you were heading for a civil war anyway. And Gregory Amaris isn't really someone we're going to cry over." He turned back to Hong. "Good work, Legionnaire. I'm going to kick this up the chain of command."

The infantryman, or whatever the title was for someone wearing battle armour, raised one hand in salute and then glanced at Janalynn then back to the officer. "Sir?"

"Keep..."

"She's a Legatus-equivalent, sir. Janalynn Patinov."

"Pajitnov," Janalynn corrected him.

"Keep Legatus Pajitnov isolated from the other prisoners for now, Hong. Until I hear back, she's to be held in our guardhouse rather than the stockade. I'm assigning your squad as her guard. Make sure she receives medical attention and food as needed."

"Ave, Principes."

Hong looked Janalynn over. "Better go to the medics first," he said judiciously. "Way you're walking I guess you've more bits bruised than not."

"There's no way two non-medical people like us can make that judgement," she replied, which had sounded much more witty inside her head. "Only a doctor can decide one."

"Then I'd better take you to one."

Field medical stations hadn't changed much over however long it had been for these peoples, Janalynn noticed. "So what's the situation with Oberon?"

"Eh, I don't know the politics. They're... look, back in the thirty-first century there are basically three types of state: the Successor States like the Free Worlds League or the Lyrans; the old Periphery states like the Canopians or Taurians; and then small fry that used to be dismissed as pirates: us, the Tortugans and Oberon. When my old man was out raiding it was what we had to do. No one looks back and says they were the good old days, you know?"

Janalynn shrugged. "Okay, but what has that got to do with the price of Germanium."

"Well rumour has it that Oberon never stopped pirating. They just quit hitting the Lyrans and started hitting people further out. Just rumour, but space corewards of them is supposed to be really dangerous for unescorted shipping. What are they doing these days?"

"Taking over."

"Really?" Hong looked surprised. "That's kind of slick."

"Legionnaire," Janalynn said coolly. "About two-thirds of the Republic is too busy kissing her feet to remember that she's the one who killed our liege lord. Gregory Amaris may not have been the best ruler we've ever had but he was still First Consul. How would you feel if that happened to your boss."

"It wouldn't," Hong said confidently. "He's like Alexander the Great and people like that. The All-Pater's favourite son."

"The... All-Pater."

"Yeah, you guys are all greek and so forth, right. You know Zeus? Same guy, he just goes by Jupiter or Odin."

"I think you're getting your myths mixed up."

"Hey!" He looked hurt. "I don't go insulting your religion just because mine's better."

It hurt to laugh, Janalynn found.

* * *

**Chateau Filtvet, Filtvet**

**Filtvet Commonwealth**

**21 October 2577 (20 October 3032 local calendar)**

Henry Davion was not kept on Cogdell this time. Previously he had been an essentially unofficial emissary of an unknown. Now he was the official ambassador of the Star League, sent to offer a formal treaty to Rachel. Proprietry demanded he be permitted to do so at her seat of authority and so he entered the golden walls of the Chateau Filtvet.

Although the name suggested that he should have expected architecture of the French rennaissence, the Chateau was more reminiscent of the Hindu worlds along the Taurian border. The massive stone fortifications grew out of a mountain rich in grass and trees, battlements scaled for BattleMechs encompassing parks and the palatial buildings from which the March and now the Commonwealth were governed.

"Be it ever so humble," Rachel Calderon-Davion said depreciatingly, "There's no place like home."

"Unless I miss my guess, it's new," Henry observed.

"I didn't design it," she shrugged, "But honesty compels me to admit the necessity for security and I see no reason that my defences should be ugly."

The window of the room looked out over a canal of water that circled the entire castle, within the space between two lines of walls. On the far side, a lance of _Mackie_ battlemechs – part of the Chateau's garrison – marched past. The tremendous strength of the structure was expressed by the fact that despite four hundred-ton BattleMechs walking past, there was not the slightest discernable vibration.

"You say that you are here to offer me a treaty, one of reconciliation?"

Henry straightened. "Yes. I am here on behalf of my father and my prince, Alexander Davion, and also of First Lord Ian Cameron of the Star League. The treaty may be summed up in two exchanges of concessions."

Rachel nodded slightly it conform her understanding.

"Firstly, in return for complete autonomy within the borders of your Arch-Duchy, that you swear allegiance to the Federated Suns and strict neutrality in any military conflict between the Star League and the periphery states."

"Secondly, in return for the appointment of you and your heirs as representative Lord of the Federated Suns to the Star League Council, that you pledge a union of your heirs to the heirs of Prince Davion at the earliest suitable opportunity. This would hopefully take place through a marriage between one of your children and a child of my nephew Ian."

"As a member of the Star League Council, you would be in a position to urge moderation upon the other Council Lords. It is certainly the desire of the First Lord the nations of the periphery enter the Star League through peace if possible and my father has been an advocate of military measures. It is seems highly possible that wars that your own history foretells can be averted and over time, your peers or perhaps their natural successors won over."

Henry's expression pleaded for acceptance of the offer, aversion of the tragedy that further battles would be.

Rachel's face was still. "This will require some thought. Please accept my hospitality for a few days while I consult my advisors."

"Of course." Henry bowed, not letting his disappointment at not receiving a more positive reaction show. When Rachel made no move to rise from her chair, he backed away and left her to think in silence.

Thirty minutes later, Simon Gallagher found his wife in the same chair. "What did he have to say?"

"He was making me an offer. Might as well have been Matthew 4:8."

"That isn't very complimentary. Should I ready an exorcism?"

Rachel shook her head. "Let's not get His Holiness started on something we might have to finish." She looked out of the window. "Morgan and I always used to argue over who would take over if anything happened to Hanse, each of us trying to foist it off on the other."

Simon nodded and took the other seat. He'd only ever met Morgan Hasek-Davion, Rachel's cousin and foster-brother, in passing, before his assassination. "Neither of you wanted the throne?"

"Uncle relished the challenges, but he never hid the burden from us either. This burden."

She explained the offer and Simon thought it over for a moment. "The Protector would kill you."

"Unless Savitri took a similar offer." She considered. "Savitri and either Garrick or Callum. It'd be nasty though. Rather beside the point though. Would it be in the best interests of Filtvet?"

"Economically? It would be immensely profitable. Our Commonwealth would eclipse the core worlds of the Crucis March almost immediately, and of course they would be a huge, if slightly depressed market for us. Something, by the by, that we really could do with, given what the latest unemployment figures are. By the time the boys inherit, the natural capital would be here, not New Avalon."

"That's part of the problem. It would inevitably mean that the Federated Suns would surpass the Terran Hegemony, setting off a power struggle within the Star League. We'd be trading one war for another and one that I'm not sure would be on favourable terms."

"Oh." He thought about it and then shrugged. "If you say so."

"Not to mention that it violates practically the first rule of politics: don't alienate your existing allies to gain another."

"I can recall a number of occasions where people did exactly that." Simon considered carefully. "There would almost certainly have to be one person it didn't end badly for... But in any event, it sounds as if you would be better off sounding out the other Lords before you decide anything."

* * *

**Ducal Palace, Jojoken**

**Andurien, Duchy of Andurien**

**22 October 2577 (21 October 3032 local calendar)**

Savitri Centrella was looking at Brion Marik with lidded eyes. This wasn't an attempt at seduction, but more a mark of weariness. She had slept only fitfully of late.

"You've made a shrewd offer," she admitted.

The Duke spread his hands. "Would there be any point in making an offer that you would have no reason to accept?"

"Clearly the Star League thought so three years ago," replied Savitri, somewhat waspishly. The reference hit home - the Pollux Proclaimation had been calculated to be rejected and provide the Star League with a pretext for the invasion of the periphery.

"The fact that it's still resented after four hundred years is sufficient evidence that it was a mistake."

"I'm so glad something was." She shook her head. "Do you know why the Reunification War happened?"

"As usual, there were a great many reasons."

"It was because you were afraid of peace. You had the Star League. The member-states were scaling back their armed forces, scaling back purchases of military equipment... And that was tearing your economies and societies apart because for over a century it was all you'd ever known."

"And so you looked for a way to go back to war, but the Star League prevented you from warring on each other. How fortuitous that there were states who had not accepted the Star League. Who had never been considered for membership before."

Brion's fists clenched. "That's not true. Ian and my great-grandfather spent years trying to persuade you."

"They spent a decade and a half wooing Davion and Kurita," she pointed out. "And once that was done they considered it complete: the Terran Hegemony was surrounded by 'allies' comprising more than half the major states and the Star League was declared to be formed. We were not needed in 'seventy-one, so why was it so vital that we be included in 'seventy-five? The reasons are simple: you were in a socio-economic crisis, with demobilisation boosting unemployment and corprorations balking at the costs of retooling factories to civilian purposes."

Her eyes were as hard as slate. "The Reunification War was intended to be a short victorious war, to give the Star League something to rally behind. Albert Marik must have been spinning his grave."

Brion tried to bring the conversation back on track. "Then perhaps through joining you will fill my great-grandfather's shoes within the Council and steer us away from such mistakes."

"Believe me I'm tempted, but there's probably a hidden clause in the Star League Accords that prevents me from hitting senile old farts over the head with a chair."

The average age of the Star League Council was only fifty-two, hardly senile old fart range in Brion's opinion. Chancellor Liao was actually almost exactly a decade younger than the Magestrix. "I think that would probably breach a peace treaty or two," he said diplomatically deciding that commenting on a lady's age would not serve him well.

"Pity. The trouble with nobility is that everyone takes them too seriously. Honestly, I was so instantly opposed to the offer that I wasn't sure I was being objective or if I was looking for excuses to justify the decision. At best the Star League's invasions were nothing but armed robbery at best... and in the campaigns where Marion Marik wasn't restraining the SLDF, closer to rape. We've got every reason to hate the Star League."

"And if that was all that there was, that honestly isn't a good reason to refuse. Because the Star League, was – after the war – a major benefactor. Our medical expertise was developed on the back of financing from the Star League during the reconstruction from the Reunification War. But that's not why I'm refusing."

"Then why are you!"

Savitri straightened and fatigue seemed to fall away from her. "I went back to read Kossandra Centrella's diary. It's never been published, one of the private treasures of my House. I don't even know why I brought it to Andurien with me. She was from Andurien, you know. She left because she was sick of relying on and being let down by distant and incompetent superiors. And that's what the Star League cannot tolerate. It's a dependence culture and its collapse took every state within it – voluntarily or not – into a dark age."

"So ironically, after all that time thinking and that damn musical number we all did, it turns out that my ancestor said it best two years ago: 'Men and women do not need Terra and we are willing to give our lives to prove it'."

* * *

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**, Trznadel Cluster**

**Luxen District, Magistracy of Canopus**

**25 October 2577 (26 October 3032 local calendar)**

Emily Alexander hauled herself to a halt at the bridge hatch, her walker compacted into a bag strapped across her back. "Permission to enter the bridge?"

"Granted," Margaid Chon said, waving for the ComCapt to enter the compartment. "So what brings the commander of Her Canopian Magetrixness's cruiser _Argentinosaur_ to our humble little freighter?"

"Two matters," Emily replied. She reached into her tunic and produced an envelope. "Firstly a letter from your errant engineer. And no, you can't have her back. She's just gotten tapped as my new _chief_ engineer."

Margaid accepted the envelope and weighed it in one hand briefly before passing it to Osami Hayagawa. "And the other shoe?"

"The other shoe? Oh! The other reason." Emily shook her head. "Dated slang, the true terror of time travel. I've got a job offer for you."

"Another job offer? We're already being kept busy."

"I know, and you're doing it well. But we have a mission that requires a certain... delicacy. A spyship, to put it bluntly."

"And you thought of us?"

Emily nodded. "It is what you were doing when you first came to the Magestrix's attention – and yes, she did recommend you specifically."

"Let me guess, you're planning to do to Sian what the Avellar did to New Samarkand?" Mela Kocinski asked sarcastically.

"Something a little more ambitious than that. After all, Chancellor Liao has been quite friendly towards Canopus. We're planning a deep strike and although we could simply bull through any opposition, that would be something of a risk. We need someone innocuous to go ahead of us into uninhabited systems to check no one is there that might give us away."

"A deep strike where?"

Emily smiled slightly.

"So not the Capellans... You don't mean the Free Worlds League, do you?" Margaid's tone implied she had already guessed the answer... and didn't believe what she was thinking.

The naval officer shook her head. "Nope. The First Lord thinks he's secure on Terra, with the rest of the Star League between his sainted Hegemony and harm. We're going to take that away from him."

"My god, you mean Terra itself?"

"The system at least. There are at least two major shipyards there and the political implications of such an attack – as long as the Ares Conventions are upheld, of course – make it too valuable a target not to strike at."

Osami gulped. "Like Sian?"

"No. As I said, the Ares Conventions will be upheld." Emily folded her arms. "Not that we would ask you to be part of that stage of the operation. We're wanting to use your experience of trading inside the Free Worlds League to play pathfinder through their territory. If challenged, you'd pretend to be carrying a cargo of pharmaceuticals from Tellman's Mistake to Irian. No one who knows those corporate pirates would be surprised to have one of their shipments try to evade internal customs duties."

"And how would we scout for you. We don't have one of your HPG generators and I think it would be obvious if we fitted one. Jumping forwards to scout and then back to you would be very slow."

Emily nodded. "Quite true, Captain. I'm sure you can venture guesses at how we plan to handle that issue, but unless you accept the job, the details must necessarily remain confidential."

Margaid frowned and then looked over at Osami. "Miss Hayagawa, you have the bridge. I think I'll need to hold a shareholder's meeting."

She gestured to Mela, who rose to follow her. The communications officer paused as she pulled herself past Emily. "ComCapt, when we brought you here to Trznadel, I gave offense. I apologise for the lack of courtesy. While I'm not sure that I agree with the Magestrix on all her decisions, I've no doubt that she's worked very hard to improve the lives of her people."

Emily nodded. "Your apology is accepted, Ms. Kocinski. Perhaps in time you will accept her as your own Magestrix as well."

"I suppose stranger things have happened. Last Christmas being the obvious example."

* * *

**Danderson City, Persistance**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**25 October 2577**

It had taken determined efforts to persuade Viola Steiner-Dinesen that she should not lead the first assault wave. Thus the Fourth Royal Guards landed in a dropzone already cleared by the Fifteenth Lyran Guards... at a cost, which the wreckage of a _Manatee_ dropship and presumably the four BattleMechs inside, made obvious.

No one present – Robert Dinesen being back on Coventry – had managed to talk Viola out of being first off the dropship and she walked her _Warhammer_ down the DroST's ramp at the head of her command lance, followed by the _Alfar_ lance assigned to support them.

"Move out," she ordered tersely as lances began spilling out of other dropships and forming up into companies. "We need to support the Lyran Guards if we're going to seize the desalinzation plant before resistance firms up."

As if to deliberately undercut her assertion that resistance was not already firm, three Lyran _Thunderbird_s rocketed across the air landing zone at low altitude, hotly pursued by five _Vulcan_s in RWR colours. Several 'Mechs fired up at the enemy aerospace fighgters but it was the heavier fire from the dropships that forced the quintet to break off.

"That may be too late, Archon Steiner. Shouldn't we wait for the Arcturan Guards to land so we can move in force? Or at least one of the tank regiments."

"No Colonel. The Rim Worlds rebels can't have more than two mixed regiments here at the worst. We need to press them back and secure a foothold around the desalinzation plant. Once we have that, they won't dare to keep fighting: we'll control the only safe source of water they have within a hundred miles."

Her _Warhammer_ moved forward and the lance of _Alfar_s rushed forward to at least provide some degree of vanguard.

"Archon, this more than a little rash." The rest of the Royal Guards regiment was following nonetheless, including the speaker, Leutenant Colonel McGann.

"It would be appreciated, Colonel, if you would make contact with the Lyran Guards so that we can reinforce them."

"Yes ma'am," he said tightly and punched the switch to change channels. "Colonel Sykes, this is McGann with the Royal Guards. We're on the ground and the Archon wants to know where you need reinforcements."

"McGann? This is Sykes. We're pushing on the right flank with the First and Second Battalion. Third Battalion was on the elft but we've lost contact with them. The Rim Worlders have got impressive jamming."

"I heard that, Colonel Sykes," Viola cut in. "We'll find your Third Battalion for you and catch the Rim Worlders in a pincer move."

It was hard not to see the marks of marching BattleMechs on the ground and Viola led the Royal Guards along the path marked out by the feet of the Lyran Guards' Third Battalion with the confidence of a bloodhound chasing after a fresh spoor. _Commando_s fanned out to check for disabled units of either side while the companies of _Alfar_ and _Shadow Hawk_s flanked the heavy core of _Warhammer_s and _Ymir_s formed around the Archon's lance.

"Sir, we've found two disabled 'Mechs," reported one of the Leutenants with the recon screen. "Two _Shadow Hawk_s from the Lyran Guards. Looks like they ran afoul of Rimmer cavalry, we've got parts of at least three hovertanks scattered around."

"Then we're on the right trail," Viola decided. "Pick up the pace. Third Battalion may need our help."

"Leutenant, this is Colonel McGann, do you have any sign that the pilots made it out?"

"One of them didn't." The leutenant sounded very young. "Too much damage to tell about the other one."

"Understood. Keep your eye open for survivors." He switched his attention back to the Archon and saw her _Warhammer _marching ahead, the woman inside it still intent on finding the missing battalion.

The slope down to the city was dotted with low, broad trees with trunks that a battlemech could hide behind. It was wonderful ground for an ambush and so McGann was not entirely startled when a squadron of Hipparch hovertanks sprinted from the shadows, their trails marked by clouds of dust that lit up bizarrely as laser beams penetrated them.

Although fast, the little tanks lacked the firepower to make a serious impression on the heavier BattleMechs and so they concentrated their attention on the _Commando_s. Within moments, smoke from missile contrails and from trees set alight by straying shots was rising upwards.

"I'm hit!" the leutenant from earlier cried out and McGann saw an ejection seat rocket upwards a moment before an explosion marked the destruction of a _Commando_. The attackers weren't having it all their own way though: two were withdrawing with visible damage while a third had misjudged a sharp turn and crashed against a tree at enough speed to embed its crumpled remains into the tree-trunk.

A half-dozen others made skidding turns before rushing back through the recon screen, pummelling the light 'Mechs again before retreating.

"Forwards!" Viola ordered, kicking her _Warhammer_ into a run – as if it had a hope of keeping up with the fleet hovertanks.

One Hipparch delayed too long: a _Shadow Hawk_ rocketed into the air, propelled by its jump jets, and landed literally upon the upper deck of the luckless tank. Somewhat surprisingly the Hipparch's chassis survived the impact, but the addition of another fifty-five tons to their burden was far beyond the limits of the hoverfans and the tank crashed into the ground, power-train destroyed. The reckless attack was it's own punishment however for the _Shadow Hawk_'s legs were dragged out from under it by the momentum of the Hipparch and it literally somersaulted before crashing to the forest floor with a bone-rattling crunch.

The Royal Guards charged forwards after their Archon, pushing past increasing evidence now of their comrades in the Lyran Guards – the arm of an _Alfar_ lying against one tree, the crater that held what was left of a Rim Worlds tank after its ammunition stores exploded, a _Wasp_ with its head crushed in by some tremendous blunt instrument – the fist of a _Mackie_ perhaps?

Alarms went off through their formation as missiles hurtled towards them from the direction of the city. "Artillery!" McGann shouted. "Scatter!"

The Guards obeyed with smooth professionalism, not reduced to a mob but instead spacing themselves out deliberately so that no one missile warhead could catch more than one of BattleMech in its blast.

A _Shadow Hawk_ fell to the ground, armour pierced and myomers along the lower leg severed by an explosion. But ti wasn't a missile that had caused it. They were overshooting, airbursting behind the Guards. "Mines!" McGann realised. "Back up!"

Another wave of missiles was descending, again behind them. The Guards backed up, uncomfortably aware that by moving backwards their rear armour was exposed towards the explosions of the missiles. But the explosions were too small and the submunitions being scattered were not exploding at all.

"What's going on?" Viola enquired coolly. Other 'Mechs had clustered around hers, instinctively moving to shield their leader.

McGann grimaced. "This is a trap, Archon. Most likely they expect the minefield to confine us as they bombard us with the missiles."

"Then we're playing their game," Viola decided. "We need to push on. We'll go forwards, not back. Sweep a path with our energy weapons."

"Do I need to point out the risks of that, Archon," McGann protested.

"Colonel, I know you're doing your job. But I led us into this and I'm going to lead us out."

She moved her _Warhammer_ forwards and after a moment's hesitation, the Fourth Royal Guards followed her.

* * *

There were no fortifications around Danderson City so bin Bilal had dug his troops into the buildings around the edge of the town, evicting hundreds of residents.

Now dozens of buildings had been smashed apart. A _Griffin_ of the Lyran Guards was still sprawled across the front of the school building where the Strategos had made his headquarters, the shattered wreck of its canopy showing where the mechwarrior had punched out after Inferno SRMs had caused it to overheat.

Of course the splatter of napalm from the missiles hadn't done much for the school and now bin Bilal was commanding the defense of this flank – initially what had seemed to be the least threatened – and of the battle, from a communications van.

"The Royal Guards are still pushing forwards, sir."

The Strategos had to restrain any visual sign of fear. A single battalion of Lyran Mechs had almost penetrated his lines of defense here. A regiment on this flank could shatter it. "Rather desperate of them." He reassured himself that after daring the minefield, the 'Mechs would be damaged and over-warm, their mechwarriors exhausted. "Keep pounding them," he ordered. "I'd rather spend ammunition than men on this battle."

That got a few smiles around the room. A throwaway comment asserting care for his army bound them to him. Not so very different from politics in that regard.

Bin Bilal pushed through the cramped van towards one of the display screens. "Can you give me a visual?"

A technician typed instructions into the controls and the screen switched to display footage from a recon helicopter of a column of Steiner-blue BattleMechs pushing down the slope. Although explosions were tearing apart the trees around them, they continued to advance and pummel the ground in their path with lasers and PPCs. Occasionally an explosion marked the detonation of a mine under that barrage.

As he watched, bin Bilal realised that the regiment wasn't just pushing forwards, they were doing so as a coherent whole, using what cover they could find and when they couldn't manage that, covering each other's vulnerable armour by packing close. It meant more damage to them as a whole but fewer casualties.

"You don't think they'll make it through?" asked the tech nervously.

"I think they will." Bin Bilal gripped the back of the man's chair. "The question is: how ready will they be to fight when they get through?" He patted the technican on the shoulder. "Just keep an eye on them."

Turning around, the Strategos picked up a microphone. "Put me on the local command channel," he ordered and waited to be given the nod. "This is the Strategos. It seems that the Archon has heard how tore up her Lyran Guards and is coming here to complain. I'd like you all to give her a warm, generous welcome of as much firepower as we can direct towards her."

"More specifically, the Fire Support Troop is to move their launchers forwards – they're already pretty softened up and I want them reduced to mush before they reach the three hundred metre line. Everyone else, get into firing positions. If your position is rubble then make sure you're dug into that."

He turned to more specific directions, keeping one eye on the screen showing footage from the recon platforms, and the icons marking them on a map overlay.

"Looks like we have five minutes or so," he observed when he was done. "I'm going outside to water the side of the nearest wall." There were a few chuckles, indicating that his display of confidence had succeeded in stiffening morale.

It actually took a minute or so to reach the exit of the van and bin Bilal took the opportunity to stretch once he was outside. The street around him was almost deserted – virtually everyone was on the otherside of the van, preparing to fight. Glancing around for decency's sake, he turned towards the wall of a damaged building and reached for his trouser buttons.

His attention on his clothes, bin Bilal didn't notice the arrival of two men in Republican fatigues, although a cannier eye might have noted that despite apparently heavy military boots, they were moving quietly.

A hand across the mouth, a bayonet between the ribs. He died quietly.

Without fuss, the two men picked up the body and carried him quickly away. An empty ammunition case was waiting to be the coffin and a discreet grave outside the city would be John bin Bilal's final resting place.

"We live for the one," murmured the Oberon Confederation Ranger carrying bin Bilan's legs.

His partner chuckled softly. "This one died for the one," he pointed out.

They were well out of the way by the time anyone went looking for the Strategos. When the staff couldn't find him, not only would the man be removed as a rival for power but his political legacy would be irredeemably tainted with the title of deserter.

In the end there would be no time for the staff to extend their search. The Fourth Royal Guards stormed into Danderson City, blood in their eyes. BattleMechs with energy weapons, such as the _Warhammer_s with their paired PPCs and chest-mounted lasers, had necessarily taken the lead in the attack. They had therefore taken disproportionate losses.

Leutenant-Colonel McGann's _Warhammer_ staggered into the city, firing SRMs into the retreating self-propelled missile launchers of the Fire Support troop. He couldn't use the arms of his 'Mech – one PPC was cracked along its length and in any case, both were being used to cradle the torn-away head of another _Warhammer_.

The body inside that small, shrapnel-ridden box could no longer claim the title of Archon. That title, for better or for worse, now rested with a seventeen year old boy on Tharkad.

* * *

**Paradise Island, Brisbane**

**Hyades Union, Taurian Concordat**

**29 October 2577 (28 October 3032 local calendar)**

The freshwater oceans of Brisbane made the planet a maritime reserve of extraordinary proportions, and unlike Lackland in newly-named Filtvet Commonwealth, the native life wasn't hostile. Many of the island chains supplemented their fishing income by catering to tourists and were doing fairly well out of it by taking advantage of relatively cheap interstellar travel along the routes between Taurus and Canopus.

It wasn't the preferred resort of the Taurian nobility however (such as that institution was) and so Jack Calderon's acquisition of Paradise Island and construction of a holiday home for his family there had gone almost unmarked, except for the fishing villages along the coasts who took a certain quiet pride in protecting the privacy of their new landlord - and his daughters, when he brought them there, which he had done to celebrate his coming birthday.

The girls were at one of the villages, no doubt running wild with the other children there, when the Star League's ambassador was allowed to enter the beach. Dressed in formal, capellan-style robes, the man was in complete contrast to his surroundings as he descended the steps from the patio above.

A gaily decorated parasol shaded a small table laden with drinks, an icebox lurking beneath it. Sat on a deckchair, just outside the shade, the leader of the Taurian Concordat was wearing a florid shirt, baggy shorts and flip-flops.

"I'd like to think I'm not a cruel man," he greeted the ambassador. "Pour yourself a drink before you have to say anything that has me rip your head off."

Somewhat non-plussed, Richard Teng accepted the offer and after scooping himself a tumbler of ice-cubes, poured two fingers of vodka over them. The ice was almost visibly melting. "Would you like anything?"

"Ian Cameron's head on a platter. Could you help me with that?"

Teng almost choked and wondered just how much the Protector had had to drink before he arrived. "That would be beyond my reach," he answered.

"That's a shame. So, what gems of 'superior wisdom' does Ian the Irritating want to bestow on this poor provincial?"

The ambassador considered the formal speech he had prepared and decided not to use it. You have to tailor your presentation to your audience. "The Star League Council accept that they have made errors in their enthusiasm to share the benefits of the Star League with their neighbours. Fortunately, your presence in this time, clearly the work of some higher power, enables them to have some degree of hindsight."

"We have reinstated the Ares Conventions. At this very time, they are debating the retraction of and an apology for the Pollux Proclaimation. Sir, I am here with an offer of peace. The Star League is willing and ready to respect your right to self-determination."

"I'm sure they are." Jack snorted derisively. "After they got their faces got kicked in."

"May I finish, sir?" asked Teng with exaggerated courtesy.

"You may."

"We will keep our militaries outside of the Concordat if you in return refrain from sending your forces into the Star League. The principal request that we would make is that you agree to likewise respect the self-determination of other states. There is a perception that were another state, let us say for the sake of example, the Periphery March, were to enter the Star League of their own free will, that you would embark on a crusade to prevent them from doing so."

There was a long silence, Jack staring out to sea, the ice cubes in Teng's drink slowly melting.

Then Jack shook his head. "No Ambassador. The avalanche is on the move. It's too late for pebbles to cast votes."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Ambassador, the Bureau of Star League Affairs has spent years whipping up public opinion against the Periphery. And admittedly we have done much the same against the Star League, in part to defuse the endless wars over its empty throne. The mass of public demands war."

"The public?" Teng shook his head. "What in the world are you talking about? Their opinion was 'whipped up' as you say it, by the Lords. It can be calmed down as easily."

"No," Jack disagreed. "It really can't. Not here, and not in the Star League. No ruler can truly be absolute. If I tried to compromise now, I would be removed from office and rightly so. If Ian Cameron tries the same then he'll tear his own Star League apart, which would be quite amusing from my perspective, but I can't see him making that mistake so we're both going to reap the consequences of our actions."

"So, ambassador, finish your drink. We have a war and I intend to win it."

* * *

**Imperial City, New Samarkand**

**Galedon District, Draconis Combine**

**2 November 2577**

The sky east the city was alight in eerie imitation of one of its famous fireworks festivals. On this occasion the light came not from gunpowder hurled at the sky in celebration but in the descending wreckage of DCS _Kumo_, the destroyer having strayed too deep into the atmosphere while trying to screen the capital. Public announcements had warned that the harbour might see atypical waves as a result, although it was believed that the break up of the warship (assisted by fire from a pair of OADF corvettes risking the same fate) would prevent a tsunami.

Coordinator Hehiro Kurita sat in the cockpit of his _Warhammer_ watching as a convoy of hovertrucks streamed down the highway leading north from the city. The insides of the transports contained government files and the valuable artworks of his palace. Where the contents were close to the maximum safe tonnage for the hovercraft, bureaucrats and their families had been permitted to huddle in the remaining space.

Somewhere near the head of the massive convoy were the limousines carrying Hehiro's mother and his children. Hopefully Leonard would listen to his grandmother's advice.

The reason for the evacuation was also visible in the sky, lights south rather than east of the city. Dropships landing. Hehiro would like to think that there was no possibility that a band of pacifist farmers from the Periphery could not possibly threaten the Imperial Palace, protected as it was by the Otomo, reinforced with Galedon Regulars and the elite Proserpina Hussars.

But he would have liked also to have thought that a band of periphery vagabonds could not have killed his elder son Martin almost two decades ago.

And these are more than mere farmers, a voice whispered in his mind. How will you repel them? The voice sounded much like his mother.

"How embarrassing," Hehiro mused wryly, remembering his silent derision of Ursula Liao's decision to move her court from Sian – now only two jumps from the Taurians – to the safer Capella. In retrospect there would be definite benefits to a more central capital, one unstained by the history of the Von Rohrs dynasty or by the shame of this battle being fought on its soil.

"Sir?"

"Heads in the Admiralty will roll for permitting this disgrace," Hehiro explained himself smoothly. "Now it falls to us to protect Yamashiro."

There was a muted cheer from some of the younger mechwarriors but the older ones, the ones who remembered the border conflicts twenty years before, remained quieter.

The _Kumo_ was not the only ship to have been stricken in the defense of New Samarkand. A pair of _Sultan_ cruisers had similarly been destroyed, albeit it further from the gravity well. And to add insult to injury, many of the fighters responsible had flown off what was recognisably a copy of the Draconis Combine's new _Samarkand_-class carrier. DCS _Samarkand_ and her first sister ship would not launch for almost four years.

On the road the last hovertruck passed by and military police now began to wave private vehicles through so that they too could leave the endangered city behind them. The cars and vans were still being steered away from the main roads however, permitting the little column to make its way swiftly towards the ancient fortifications that had protected Yamashiro when it was merely one city-state among many, before the rise of Shiro Kurita.

In those days, of course, warfare had been a matter of infantry and of tanks that were laughable in the face of even a single BattleMech, but the lines of firing positions and bunkers remained as historical landmarks and a broad greenbelt had been retained as parkland, banishing the suburbs and private estates kilometres from Yamashiro.

Somewhere to the south, the Outworlds Alliance's armed forces would soon be unloading their warriors and preparing to march. Hehiro watched militia platoons filter into the bunkers, spread among the regular DCMS infantry battalions that would hopefully stiffen their ranks. In the privacy of his cockpit where the serene dignity of his office would not be marred by the foreign vice, the Coordinator produced a thin Caph cigar and lit it. A second cigar remained wrapped in one pocket. If he won this, he felt he would have earned it.

The first attacks weren't the sort of proud charge that the DCMS would have indulged in. A 'Mech or two would emerge from the shadows of the part, firing off a PPC and perhaps LRMs before fading back out of range.

It was frustrating.

Hehiro fired off both PPCs at an enemy 'Mech, a _Warhammer_ ironically. He saw one shot land, pulverising the armour just below the heavy 'Mech's missile launcher, but the enemy 'Mech had also scored a hit, not on Hehiro's _Warhammer_ but on the _Dervish_ next to him, and was backing up quickly. Almost immediately Hehiro lost track of it , masked by a dip on the ground.

"The cowards do not dare to fight us." A _Banshee_ in the colours, muted by the darkness, of the Galedon Regulars stepped forward out of the fortifications. "One attack will sweep them away."

Fool. Hehiro spread the arms of his 'Mech wide. "So? You may attack then, Captain Symond. Surely such miserable foe will fall to your strength alone."

"Alone?"

"Yes." The Co-ordinator might have felt for the young fool, but he had put himself forward as an example of why a disciplined defense would be required tonight.

The _Banshee_ paused as if in disbelief and then started to stride forwards, the PPC and autocannon at its hip ready to fire. Symonds did so almost immediately and Hehiro almost fired when he saw shadows emerge in the distance to fire. Previously only a few Mechs at a time had appeared, giving the appearance of weakness. But now, well out of reach of weapons fired from the defences, a dozen or more 'Mechs of a type he'd seen earlier moved into view and laid into the _Banshee_ with a barrage of PPC and flight after flight of LRMs.

The mighty BattleMech was powerfully armoured and weathered the storm of fire, raising arms to shield its cockpit as it strode forward, weapons firing. Impulsive and stubborn, the young Captain might have been, but he was a skilled Mechwarrior.

It was not enough however.

The second heavy barrage caused the _Banshee_ to stagger. The third brought it to its knees, frozen and still like a statue.

"That was the price of impatience," Hehiro observed coldly. "We shall drive them from the soil of New Samarkand when the time is right. Not when they seek to lure us into the open. Remember, to break the line is to permit the enemy an open road into the capital of the Combine."

A light upon his console indicated a private signal and he activated it. "This is the Coordinator."

"Sir, this is Brigadier Fujimora of the Prosperina Hussars. I offer no disobedience sir, but I have sent out scouts on foot and it appears that perhaps as little as a single regiment is facing us. It is of course likely that they have hidden reserves..."

Hehiro shook his head wearily. "They do indeed have reserves, Colonel, but not behind them. Even after shielding the landings they have many squadrons of aerospace fighters ready to cut us apart as we cross the open ground around the cities. But they cannot stay at that readiness forever and our own remaining fighters are preparing us to support the attack at dawn."

"Thank you sir." Fujimora sounded reassured. "If they try to attack before then, we shall break them."

"Indeed we shall," Hehiro agreed, trying not to think too much about what was happening in other cities. Yamashiro was built around the imperial court and the poltical and administrative functions of a capital city. In defending it he had declined to similarly protect other cities with a more industrial identity. The financial and military consequences of those factories, many protected only by their local security, being destroyed would be far-reaching.

But lose Yamashiro? Lose the capital of Shiro Kurita and of every Coordinator since? It would destroy the credibility of the McAllister-Kurita line of which he was heir. And that way led civil war because there was no other clear succession.

Priorities. Factories could be rebuilt, given time. The reputation of House Kurita, once broken, could never be.

A pair of the enemy Mechs closed in again and Hehiro raised one arm to fire into the nearer of the two. "Don't waste your missiles," he ordered. "Let them think we are running short of ammunition, it may lure them into a rash attack. In fact, all light 'Mechs are to step back from the line and their Mechwarriors rest. We shall want their full energy when the sun rises."

In the east the first glimmer of sun was visible, the sky pinkening visibly. Hehiro looked at the forces flanking him in either direction. Grey and tan Galedon Regulars intermixed with green and blue Prosperina Hussar BattleMechs – there had been no time to adopt field colours properly so both regiments would fight in their parade colours.

The Otomo were a block of black around him, like lurking shadows in the morning light. A faint mist had risen with the dawn, giving a dramatic feel to the battlefield.

It had been more than an hour since the last attack by the Outworlders. In the distance ahead their BattleMechs could be seen formed up into ranks, supported by a similar number of tanks. No doubt they understood what was to come.

"Draconians," Hehiro ordered. "These are the orders of the Coordinator: crush these barbarians and drive them from the soil. The time to charge is _now_!"

He was gratified to hear enthusiastic shouts from the Mechwarriors, their spirits unbroken by the long night. Many, particularly those in the _Wasp_s and _Stinger_s had taken a few hours rest if their spirits allowed, the short ranged weapons they carried not suitable for the long-range sparring.

Now those light 'Mechs were in the fore – using their jump jets to leap from the cover of the fortifications, now scarred again by battle as they had been over three hundred years ago. Behind them _Dervish_ mechs, ammunition stores full of hoarded missiles, were scarcely less eager.

But only the inherent lack of speed in larger machines prevented the bulky _Mackie_s copied from Terran examples or the lighter, more modern heavyweights like Hehiro's _Warhammer_ from keeping pace. And behind them came tanks – mostly the unimaginatively named _Tora_ battle tanks with infantry carriers scuttling after them. In many cases infantry were even clinging to the sides of the battle tanks, standing ready to defend the machines that carried them from enemy anti-tank infantry.

It had been twenty years since Hehiro had last gone to battle, but he could feel the temptation to run headlong at the foe. He restrained himself: let the advance companies take the measure of the foe and then he would focuse the might of the Otomo's power against points of resistance.

Overhead the familiar scream of jet engines and fusion turbines echoed over Yamashiro. The Outworlders were descending from the sky to savage the DCMS regiments as they crossed the open ground, but the Combine's Saber interceptors were rising, supported by dozens of militia-operated conventional fighters, to challenge the lumbering ground-attack fighters and force their bomb-laden escorts to dump their hardpoints to ward off the Draconian pilots.

Hehiro was almost half-way across the distance to the Outworlder lines and they hadn't moved at all when the fiorst bombs began to land. Most – given the tangled situation in the skies, understandably – did no more than hammer at the parkland but inevitably some did more. He saw one tank emerge unscathed from a near miss, its flank covered by bloodstains from the infantry that had been hanging against it.

A _Mackie_ staggered on, one arm torn entirely away by a direct hit but the mechwarrior undaunted by damage that in a less dire situation might have justified pulling back for repairs. Hehiro himself felt the ground shake as a bomb landed close behind his _Warhammer_, causing minor damage to the rear armour.

Closer now, hundreds of pounding metal feet carrying them forwards with irresistible force. The first missiles shot from the Outworld 'Mechs and tanks – more from the latter than the former, which continued to hold their ground as if unconcerned that they were seriously outnumbered and facing the unalloyed wrath of the Dragon. Privately Hehiro could respect the valour of the enemy Mechwarriors but it would be far more convenient if their nerve had broken so that they could be run down like dogs.

The leading companies were within two hundred metres and lasers flashed – invisible outside the cockpit but recognised and displayed by the augmented sensors of each 'Mech. Even now the Outworlders lines remained solid and a chill went through Hehiro. It was impossible for any force to be so disciplined – it was inane for any force to refrain from using the mobility of their BattleMechs in such close quarters.

"Brigadier Fujimora!" he snapped. "This is a decoy or a bait! Do not close!"

Not all the 'Mechs were still – up ahead an _Archer_ lowered its shoulders and fired off a titanic volley of missiles that smashed apart a _Wasp_ instantly. However when a _Dervish_ took revenge with a far more paltry attack, less than a dozen missiles scoring on the 'heavy BattleMech', panels of metal tore away like tissue paper from a design that was renowed for resilience.

Then it exploded, scattering not only what was clearly not modern armour or even a fusion-reactor's components across the landscape. No, it was scattering submunitions.

Hehiro raised his PPC and fired into a _Tora_ tank or something similar, only to see it shatter under only one hit. The wreckage detonated.

"These are not true warriors!" he declared, overriding all other orders. "Or at least there are few amongst them." He used his other PPC to exchange fire with a battered looking _Thunderbolt_ that was most clearly active. Then he targeted the silent, still shape of a _Mackie_ beside the _Thunderbolt_ and unleashed the potent one-shot rocket launchers that replaced the SRM launcher common to _Warhammer_s. Three-score rockets roared across the distance like dragon's breath and the _pseudo-Mackie_, disintegrated, the force of the explosion hurling the _Thunderbolt_ to the ground.

"Flanking forces circle around these holdouts and pursue the true enemy." He brought his PPCs to bear and fired both into the back of the fallen _Thunderbolt_, regardless of the sweat that dripped down his face as the heat rose sharply within his cockpit. "Otomo! Engage the enemy at range, no doubt they have mined the ground around themselves."

* * *

**A/N**

Here's a look at one of the ships used in the game and the story.

Class/Model/Name: Canopus class Cruiser  
Tech: Inner Sphere / 3031  
Vessel Type: WarShip  
Rules: Level 3, Standard design  
Rules Set: AeroTech2

The Canopus-class was a stop-gap design for the Canopian Navy Royal - they knew that their navy was far behind their Taurian neighbours and they couldn't afford to spend design time working out how to integrate newer technologies into a warship programme. The Canopus, using no technology not readily available to the Star League at it's formation, much less at its high point, was perfect for rapid implementation. In order to hide its development, the project was conflated with a second vessel, also dubbed the Canopus, that used the same hull - a heavy monitor laid down to protect the vital shipyard complexes.

Certainly one of the most mass-produced warship designs, the first Canopus-class cruisers were launched in late 3031 and design data was sent to all five principal shipyards as the Magistracy's new Class-Epsilon Yards were completed. Including hulls laid down prior to Christmas 3031/2576, the Magistracy of Canopus constructed over two hundred of the cruisers and they participated in every major engagement that the CNR fought during the next two years.

Mass: 780,000 tons  
K-F Drive System: (Unknown)  
Power Plant: Standard  
Safe Thrust: 3  
Maximum Thrust: 5  
Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-carbide  
Armament:  
56 SubCapital Laser/3*  
4 Killer Whale  
72 ER PPC  
56 AMS  
80 Small Laser  
24 NAC/30  
32 NL55

Class/Model/Name: Canopus class Cruiser  
Mass: 780,000 tons

Equipment: Mass  
Power Plant, Drive & Control: 140,400.00  
Thrust: Safe Thrust: 3  
Maximum Thrust: 5  
Kearny-Fuchida Hyperdrive: Compact (Integrity = 16) 352,950.00  
Jump Sail: No Sail (Fusion-Charged K-F) .00  
Structural Integrity: 145 113,100.00  
Total Heat Sinks: 3,444 Double 2,870.00  
Fuel & Fuel Pumps: 5,850.00  
Bridge, Controls, Radar, Computer & Attitude Thrusters: 1,950.00  
Fire Control Computers: 2,752.00  
Food & Water: (239 days supply) 895.00  
Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-carbide (2,170 total armor pts) 2,080.00  
Capital Scale Armor Pts  
Location: L / R  
Fore: 450  
Fore-Left/Right: 350/350  
Aft-Left/Right: 350/350  
Aft: 320

Cargo:  
Bay 1: Small Craft (4) with 1 door 800.00  
Bay 2: Fighters (20) with 6 doors 3,000.00  
Bay 3: Cargo (1) with 1 door 8,500.00

DropShip Capacity: 2 Docking Hardpoints 2,000.00  
Grav Decks #1 - 2: (75-meter diameter) 100.00  
Life Boats: 201 (7 tons each) 1,407.00

Crew and Passengers:  
80 Officers (69 minimum) 800.00  
150 Crew (121 minimum) 1,050.00  
180 Gunners (151 minimum) 1,260.00  
280 Marines 1,400.00  
60 Bay Personnel .00  
Weapons and Equipment Loc SRV MRV LRV ERV Heat Mass

4 SubCapital Laser/3* Nose 12 12 - - 128 1,000.00  
4 SubCapital Laser/3* Nose 12 12 - - 128 1,000.00  
1 Killer Whale(10 msls) Nose 4 4 4 4 20 650.00  
1 Killer Whale(10 msls) Nose 4 4 4 4 20 650.00  
6 ER PPC Nose 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
6 ER PPC Nose 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
6 ER PPC Nose 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
14 AMS(240 rounds) Nose - - - - 14 27.00  
20 Small Laser Nose 6(60) - - - 20 10.00  
2 NAC/30(40 rounds) FL/R 60 60 60 - 400 14,064.00  
2 NAC/30(40 rounds) FL/R 60 60 60 - 400 14,064.00  
2 NAC/30(40 rounds) FL/R 60 60 60 - 400 14,064.00  
4 NL55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 680 8,800.00  
4 NL55 FL/R 22 22 22 22 680 8,800.00  
3 SubCapital Laser/3* FL/R 9 9 - - 192 1,500.00  
3 SubCapital Laser/3* FL/R 9 9 - - 192 1,500.00  
4 SubCapital Laser/3* L/RBS 12 12 - - 256 2,000.00  
4 SubCapital Laser/3* L/RBS 12 12 - - 256 2,000.00  
6 ER PPC L/RBS 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 180 84.00  
6 ER PPC L/RBS 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 180 84.00  
6 ER PPC L/RBS 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 180 84.00  
14 AMS(240 rounds) L/RBS - - - - 28 54.00  
20 Small Laser L/RBS 6(60) - - - 40 20.00  
2 NAC/30(40 rounds) AL/R 60 60 60 - 400 14,064.00  
2 NAC/30(40 rounds) AL/R 60 60 60 - 400 14,064.00  
2 NAC/30(40 rounds) AL/R 60 60 60 - 400 14,064.00  
4 NL55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 680 8,800.00  
4 NL55 AL/R 22 22 22 22 680 8,800.00  
3 SubCapital Laser/3* AL/R 9 9 - - 192 1,500.00  
3 SubCapital Laser/3* AL/R 9 9 - - 192 1,500.00  
4 SubCapital Laser/3* Aft 12 12 - - 128 1,000.00  
4 SubCapital Laser/3* Aft 12 12 - - 128 1,000.00  
1 Killer Whale(10 msls) Aft 4 4 4 4 20 650.00  
1 Killer Whale(10 msls) Aft 4 4 4 4 20 650.00  
6 ER PPC Aft 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
6 ER PPC Aft 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
6 ER PPC Aft 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
14 AMS(240 rounds) Aft - - - - 14 27.00  
20 Small Laser Aft 6(60) - - - 20 10.00

TOTALS: Heat: 8,208 780,000.00  
Tons Left: .00

Calculated Factors:  
Total Cost: 4,570,565,880 C-Bills  
Battle Value: 229,020


	9. Book Two, Chapter Four

A/N:

Alejandro asked what happened to some of the smaller Periphery States.

Lothian League - Now part of the Marian League. The last ruler of the Lothians married Casear O'Reilly but was assassinated by a Maskirova agent in 3024.

Circinus Federation - Fell victim to the anti-piracy backlash of 3021. It was jointly invaded by the Free Worlds League and Lyran Commonwealth who managed to crush them in months with only a handful of incidents where they shot at each other.

Hanseatic League - A local rival of the Oberon Confederation, they were not brought back from the 31st century.

Jarnfolk - Still only having sporadic contact with even the nearest parts of the Inner Sphere, it's not been established if they were brought back in time.

Nueva Castilla - Unknown to the Inner Sphere at this point.

The Clans - wait for the epilogue.

* * *

**TCS **_**Gisela Cardenas**_**, High Orbit**

**New Samarkand, Draconis Combine**

**3 November 2577**

Garius Cain looked down upon the capital of the Draconis Combine. It was inescapable, given he was thousands of kilometres above it.

"You're done already?" he asked in some surprise.

"Unfortunately yes." Below him, on the surface, Chairman Antony Hislop shrugged helplessly. "We've loaded everything they have on hand that looks useful but honestly most of their factories are barely worth the trouble to scrap them."

"Damn and blast."

The fleet sent to New Samarkand had included a flotilla of dropships to carry off as much loot as possible. No one had really envisaged there being no great amount of it. From New Samarkand? The capital and presumably the richest world in a Successor State? (Not that there was anything for it to be a successor to, at this point, admittedly?)

Hislop nodded. "We might as well issue a T-shirt."

"A T-shirt?"

The chairman raised his fingers in quote marks. "'I looted New Samarkand and all I got was this T-shirt.'"

The Taurian admiral laughed loudly. "We'll have to have some run up," he decided. "Can't be too expensive. But it's more or less beside the point. What do you want to do about the Co-ordinator and his remaining army?"

"What I _want_ to do is tell you to level Yamashiro from orbit." Hislop's expression shifted to anger with terrifying suddenness. "Or failing that have our aerospace fighters hunt down anything that even looks as if it might try to shoot back. But that isn't what our orders are."

"I know how you feel, but I think the President might be right," Cain told him. "Killing Hehiro Kurita might destabilise the Draconis Combine but leaving him alive with the shame of this defeat will destabilise the entire Star League."

"You're right, of course, but it still seems like leaving a job half-done. The fact we pulled back rather than engage his charge out of Yamashiro this morning with more than token forces will let him paint that part of the campaign a victory even with the losses he took from air attacks."

"Antony, we've destroyed the Star League's new shipyards here, destroyed over a hundred factories building military equipment ranging from army boots to 'BattleMechs, smashed three warships and over a hundred dropships and defense satellites. Hehiro Kurita will be living with the memory of this defeat whenever he travels to or from New Samarkand from now until the end of his life. He can call it whatever he likes: he knows we kicked his ass and we know it too. Let him crow: the people who matter will be laughing at him."

"I guess you're right. I'll order my people back aboard their dropships. Do you have a recommendation on our exit vector?"

"We'll go out-system," Cain decided. "Two degrees off from the Nadir point should be sufficient – the charge time for the drives will help, I want us back in OWA space as soon as possible. I'll spread out my air cover to handle the orbitals while yours cover the evacuation."

"Works for me." Hislop grinned. "And the airjocks won't mind getting another crack at what's left of the local air wings."

"Just make sure the kids are back before curfew," Cain told him and then cut the channel, turning instead towards the tactical displays. The orbital space over New Samarkand was a mess: millions of fragments from the hundreds of wrecked ships and warmachines would make it a hazard for months. As a result any ship near the debris needed to put out reconnaissance vessels or risk ambush by survivors who might be prone to recklessness.

Fortunately space was big enough that for now at least, ships could stay clear of the worst areas and have little enough risk of a fast moving piece of shrapnel entering an open shuttle bay or the like. That could really ruin a ships' day.

"Alert all ships to be ready to depart orbit in four hours," Cain instructed the communications officer hovering nearby to relay such instructions. The wait should be ample time for the ground-pounders to load up and for their ships to make orbit. It would also put them at the best point of their orbit to break out for orbit.

"We've come a long way," he breathed to himself, looking first at the bridge space of the Unity-class carrier. Fifteen years ago, such a ship would have been far beyond the reach of the Taurian Concordat, but now there were more than a dozen of them – part of the mightiest fleet since the end of the Star League Defense Force. It had taken extraordinary expense, affordable only due to the explosive economic growth the Concordat had experienced since joining the Federated Commonwealth.

I'll have to get that story out of the Protector someday, he promised himself. It must have taken some serious guts to bargain with the First Prince and the Archon like that, winning concessions like the Taurian March and forcing his way into their alliance as an equal partner.

* * *

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**4 November 2577**

The news of John bin Bilal's disappearance had hit the capital like a lightning bolt. Charlotte hadn't had to raise a finger to get 'disappearance' replaced with 'desertion' and his political faction was still running in circles blaming each other for being in the Consul's pocket.

Jervis Siever was pacing back and forth across the carpet of Charlotte's living room. "We've got a mighty large hole in our government and military structures, without John," he muttered, as if she and Jerric weren't aware of that.

"Quite true," Charlotte admitted rather than calling out her fellow Consul for being obvious. "And there will doubtless be some cracks in our public support, particularly here in the Rift Republic, unless we act decisively."

"What do you suggest?" Jervis asked, turning towards where the pregnant queen sat, her feet raised on a footstool.

She lifted a remote and brought up a display of the border. "Let's deal with this one step at a time. Firstly, of course, we're missing a Strategos. While the defeat on Persistence is unfortunate, we retain control of most of the planet and Colonel Graham is putting up a formidable fight on Treeline. I suggest we appoint him as acting-Strategos until the Senate next meets. I'll also send additional reinforcements to him – the Third Oberon Guards and a battalion of the Oberon Confederation Rangers can be there by the end of the year."

"Yes, that will help," agreed the other Consul dismissively. "But what about the political situation? The Rift Republic's stability is critical to the entire Republic of the Outer Reaches. If it disintegrates we'll be divided and helpless in the face of the Star League."

Charlotte sighed in apparent exasperation. "If bin Bilal was known to be dead we could appoint a new Consul, but as it is we'll need to the Senate to impeach him first. The only thing I can think of to do is to appoint an interim administrator. Unfortunately I can't think of anyone reliable that we can spare from elsewhere."

"What about your husband? Jerric's well respected."

She waved her had dismissively. "I need Jerric's assistance in the Confederation, at least until Hendrick's little brother or sister isn't riding around inside me all the time. I'm just not mobile enough right now and the next couple of months will be even worse. No, I think that there is only one realistic choice to run the Rift Republic: you."

Sievers blinked. "But I am Consul for the Rim Worlds!"

"I know, but only a Consul has the authority to hold the Rift Republic together and I need to go back to Oberon in order to mobilise our resources against the Lyrans and the Star League." Charlotte gave him a helpless look. "I realise that it's asking a great deal of you, Jervis."

"It really is," the man said, turning away to look out of the window out over Terra Prime's towering architecture. For over three hundred years the elite of the Rim Worlds Republic – many of them his own ancestors - had clustered around the home of their First Consuls, engaging in the often brutal politics of the court. And even the fresh start of the Republic of the Outer Reaches had not erased that tradition of intrigue.

Is this a move against me? Jervis wondered. She raised up John and now he has fallen in disgrace. Is she now elevating me so that I in turn may be isolated and dealt with, leaving herself as ruler of the entire Republic? It was hard to imagine that he, a Sievers, could fall prey to the plotting of a youngster who by her own admission was only a generation or two removed from outright piracy. Still, the very implausibility made it all less likely be suspected: in the Rim Worlds, betrayal was always first looked for among those closest to you.

"I accept," he said. Even if Charlotte was indeed plotting against him, taking the post gave him the opportunity to move his own supporters into positions of power within the Rift Republic. Once in control over two-thirds of the Outer Reaches, he would be in a dominant position – perhaps dominant enough to encroach on Charlotte's control of her own Confederation.

The smile he directed at Charlotte had more in common with that of the shark on the banner of the Republic than he realised.

The queen nodded, her demeanor not quite hiding traces of relief. "Thank you, Jervis." Touching another control on the remote, she moved the display of the border rimwards towards what had once been Timbuktu province. "We really also need to decide on what to do about the breakaway provinces. Reports indicate that they are being invaded by another periphery state – almost certainly the Marians."

"Hmm..." Jervis thought back to the briefing documents he'd been provided with. "The Romans?"

"They like to think so." Charlotte shrugged. "I suppose Johann O'Reilly's modelling of his new empire after the Romans was about as faithful as Hector Rowe's imitation of Plato's Republic here. Functionally speaking they're reformed pirates and politically unreliable. Marcus O'Reilly's a tough fighter if you push him into a corner: he killed Thomas Marik personally, according to propaganda, but he's easily led. Thomas' sister managed to seduce him into allying with her against the same people who defended him from the Free Worlds League only a few years before. And I use the word seduce in both senses of the word."

"Unfortunately right now he _is_ in a corner: if he tries to make an accommodation with the Star League then the Taurians and Canopians will tear him apart, but if he confronts the Star League directly he doesn't have the muscle to hold them back on his own. My guess is that he wants to use the Rim Worlds Republic, what he can get hold of, as a proxy against the Star League while he builds up."

Jervis nodded. "I suppose it would make sense from his angle." And it's exactly what you're doing with us, isn't it your Majesty? he thought sardonically. "How dangerous are they?"

"Potentially very dangerous. The Marian soldiers are _fanatics_. They took shattering losses less than a decade ago and when they recruited up, one of the biggest sources was a cult that worships Marcus as a demi-god, some bizarre fusion of Roman and Scandainavian mythology – they absorbed a group of colonies that was fond of that cultural background, refugees from the Taurian Concordat ironically enough."

"They think he's a god?" What sort of primitives were being described.

"I suppose it makes sense. During his reign they've gone from being a remote state that most of the Inner Sphere had never even heard of, to a respected member of the second-tier of states – courted and admired. Marian morale is all but unbreakable and they have _excellent_ research and development facilities for military purposes, something they inherited from the Illyrians when they absorbed them."

"This is sounding very unpleseant, Queen Charlotte," Jervis admitted. "A nation of technically advanced fanatics isn't the sort of neighbour I would like to have."

"Ah, Jervis." She smiled slightly. "Don't you think that that might be how the Star League sees the rimwards periphery these days?"

* * *

**The Triad, Tharkad City**

**Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth**

**10 November 2577**

The three Steiner-Dinesen children sat on a couch, faces pale. The seventeen year old Kevin and Mark, flanked their sister Sarah who was five years younger. Behind them, Robert Dinesen rested his hands on Sarah and Mark's shoulders. When Kevin looked back he got a shrug from his father as if to say 'hey, I only have two hands, it doesn't mean I'm not here for you'.

Reassured, Kevin turned to the servant at the door. "Please admit my guests."

The man obediently opened the double doors and Kevin rose to greet the two men who entered.

Duke Selwin Kelswa's face was unmoved by emotion even under these circumstances: the stony-faced Duke of Tamar was said to be equally cold-hearted although Kevin knew from the duke's daughter that he was a loving father and husband, simply one who believed an excess of emotion had no place in government.

After shaking Kevin's hand firmly - one man to another – Kelswa moved to one of the armchairs facing the couch. He'd barely stepped aside before an unusually subdued Aldo Lestrade took him by the shoulder. "Your grandmother was there for me when my father died, Kevin. I hope you will let me be there for you and your family in this time of loss."

The young Archon had to choke down emotion. "Thank you," he said hoarsely and escorted the Duke of Skye to the chair next to Kelswa before resuming his seat.

Now that he was faced with the two statesmen, carefully prepared words escaped Kevin so he resorted to simplicity. "Gentlemen, I need your help. With my mother's death, I am the Archon. Unfortunately I am also not yet of age and mother appears to have neglected to update her provisions for that circumstance."

"I'm sure she left instructions," protested Lestrade. "Viola was nothing if not prepared."

Robert cleared his throat. "That is correct, yes. However those instructions predate certain revelations regarding members of the Estates General. Specifically, they assume an active and loyal Estates General to recognise Kevin as Archon and to carry some of the burden of government until his majority in three and a half years. Of course, given that even if we assembled all those members of the Estates General not currently enjoying the hospitality of the prison system, we'll border on not having a quorum anyway."

"That does lead to a related issue," Kelswa observed. "A petition has been placed before the Judiciary that it is unjust to arrest a citizen of the Lyran Commonwealth on the basis of a crime that the evidence clearly indicates they have yet to commit and of which there is no evidence they have thus far planned."

Kevin blinked. "You mean Gram and his conspirators?"

"Precisely. Absent evidence that they were already in conspiracy to abduct you at the time they were arrested – logically unlikely as that course of action depended on your mother leaving which they could not in fact have been aware that she would do, their release is almost certain." The Duke of Tamar seemed entirely unconcerned about this.

"Could today get any worse?"

The three adults exchanged looks. "Kevin," his father said mildly. "There's no need to tempt the universe."

"We're looking at a known traitor as Speaker of the Estates General right when we need to rely on that body? Mother trusted you to rule the Commonwealth with me while she was away. From the histories we've been provided with, she should have trusted you even more. So, what do you think I should do?"

Lestrade cleared his throat. "I'm going to have to be honest. I strongly recommend that you make a deal. I realise it is frowned on to speak ill of the dead but your mother made a grave mistake in arresting him. The judicial system was never going to uphold the arrest, the smarter thing to do would be to try Gram in the court of public opinion: destroy his political credibility and oust him from the Estates General. Now that he can play the martyr card that will be far harder."

"This is a man who would lock me away for almost a year and framed the two of you for that. I can't work with him!"

"Remember that when you talk to the press," advised Lestrade. "It'll play well: remember, the Estates General needs you as much as you need it. It isn't in their interests to elect someone that you can't stand. There's a very good chance that you won't need to deal with him as Speaker."

"Duke Lestrade is correct," Kelswa confirmed. "You must release Gram and his peers. However, by doing so yourself you will undermine any attempt on their part to use their imprisonment against you. Your mother's part will be swept under the carpet, it serves no one to stain the memory of a martyr."

"I still don't like it."

"Well there is one way of getting out of it," Robert suggested drily. "You could disqualify him from membership of the Estates-General with the stroke of a pen."

Kevin frowned. "I don't follow... oh." He grimaced. "That would have to be the most backhanded..."

"Oh now that's clever," Lestrade admitted. "You mean elevate him to the title of Graf? His personal wealth merits it and as the Estates General is barred to the middle and upper nobility, he'd be unable to participate."

"Not quite." Kevin's father smiled slightly. "The SLDF is taking the lead in fighting the Rim Worlds Republic – excuse me, the Republic of the Outer Reaches, I should say – but there will still need to be a local commander of the LCAF forces. I'm sure a man as able as Henry Gram could do excellent work there as Margave. That would also give him little reason to be on Tharkad making trouble, instead of out on Trell One, leading his district."

Kevin nodded. "Alright, that will at least get rid of him. But it brings me to a third point: mother may have trusted me to at as one of her regents while she was absent but it would be a bit..."

"Recursive?" Mark suggested.

"Yes, recursive for me to be my own regent."

Kelswa nodded. "It wouldn't be impossible – shared responsibility during your minority – but there are arguements either way. What do you suggest?"

"I think the triumvirate makes sense and I'd hope that the two of you will continue as two of my regents." Kevin raised his chin slightly. "I suggest that my father act as the third."

Across the table, both Dukes eyes narrowed as they switched their gaze to Robert Dinesen – in theory their equal but in practise considerably less influential.

Lestrade was first to speak. "What are your thoughts, Robert?"

"I would be willing to serve," he said calmly. "Equally, there would be perceptions of undue influence, which is probably why Viola decided against appointing me earlier. If you think that this would not be advisable then perhaps Elric Steiner would be a possible choice."

"Great Uncle Elric?" Kevin asked. "Honestly, dad?"

"He was commanding general of the Armed Forces for a good many years," Robert reminded his elder son. "That's not bad preparation. And he's a Steiner by more than marriage, one of the few I don't think has aspirations for the throne himself."

"I think either of you would be good choices," Lestrade said diplomatically. "We should probably discuss this with him as well – whichever choice is made, his support would be invaluable."

The two made their excuses and left.

Kevin sighed. "No more responsibility for another three years. It's more of a relief than I thought."

Robert leant over towards him. "If you feel the need for stress at any time, consider how you intend to wrest the power back when you turn twenty-one. I'm almost certain that it will be harder than giving it up was."

* * *

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**12 November 2577**

Alexander Davion forced him to concentrate. "I think we've all had time to read Henry's report by now. What are your initial thoughts."

The Minister of the Crucis March, Hugh Perevell, looked concerned. "I'd have to say that I find her prediction that re-integrating her domain back into the Federated Suns would lead to another Civil War to be rather concerning. Is that really likely?"  
Vincent Davion shook his head. "It would be stressful," he conceded, "But those stresses leading to military conflict is highly unlikely as long as strong leadership is provided down the line. And this is looking a century or more down into the future: there would be decades to cope with those stresses reach a breaking point."

Not everyone looked convinced, including his father. "I don't think we can rule out some later difference in opinion between my great-grandchildren if primacy moves from New Avalon to Filtvet, which could well happen even if the official capital remains here." He seemed visibly pained by the idea. "But some challenges have to be left to later generations to take care of."

"Ultimately, it doesn't change the fact that she's rejected our offer." Roger Davion, the only one of Alexander's children still in the AFFS, wore his Field Marshal's starred-epaulette proudly. "The little codicil stating that she'd personally have wished to rejoin if we weren't in the Star League but can't in good conscience sow the seeds of another Civil War is nothing but an attempt to play on our sympathies. We have to assume that if the Taurians keep pushing at us that we'll face a war there."

"We're in no shape for a war."

The room turned to Joseph Halder, the senior representative of the Federated Suns Navy and also Alexander's son-in-law. He didn't flinch at the attention. "I'm sorry, but that's the fact of the matter. Whether we like it or not, and I _don't_, the Navy has always been operated as a transport fleet for the Army. We're more focused on escorting convoys and breaking blockades than handling large scale fleet actions, and what we had in that direction was gutted at Estuan."

"We're laying down the new block-II Robinson Transports and Syrtis Carriers as fast as we can, and there's a block-II Iron Duke as well as a light carrier based on the hull of a Robinson on the drawing boards. But we're looking at another year before we can adequately provide escorts for convoys, which will probably be necessary along the border. Two years before we afford to risk an aggressive naval campaign and at least four years before we can start to match the number of hulls the Taurians have shown us."

"I thought the Aegis class ships were supposed to help with that," objected Roger.

"Given the state of training for their crews and the age of the hulls, I don't recommend they be used except in a defensive role. We're concentrating them at Chirikof as an active reserve. In the event of a major military incident at with Calderon or the Arch-Duchess, they can be moved in to stabilise the situation."

"Dammit, Joe, that's not good enough. What if both blow up in our face? They're allied you know."

"Then we go hit and run and hope the Star League Navy is able to carry a lot of the load. I'm sorry Roj, that's where things stand. I'm no happier than you are."

Alexander rubbed at his beard wearily. "How is morale in the Navy, Joseph?"

"It has been better, sir. They're determined but losing so much of the fleet in an afternoon... confidence will take some time to be restored."

"I think we will have to accept that a military solution to the Filtvet region is not practical. That leaves us with diplomacy."

"That's already failed, father."

"No, Roger, it simply hasn't succeeded yet." Alexander stared into the middle distance. "It's probably a good job Colonel Pitcairn's been officially seconded to SLDF control for his mission, but send out orders that he's to return home as soon as possible with whatever information he's been able to gather."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Let's review the strategic situation. It's not a particularly favourable one, is it? To a considerable extent we're caught between the Star League and the periphery states: each alliance has us flanked from two sides. The Capellans have decided not to fight and as long as neither side decides to push them, they'll probably be left alone. That leaves the Free Worlds League and Federated Suns as the primary battlefields: not exactly the benefits that we all hoped that the Star League would offer us."

"The reason I was pushing for war with Taurus was to neutralise them as a threat: while they were on our borders we could never scale back the AFFS to the levels that the Star League wanted. But now the SLDF can't accomplish that. At the same time, the Capellans have a minor economic crisis what with losing the Andurien Commonality and most of Sian Commonality; and Hehiro Kurita has had an actual invasion of his own capital to fight off."

"I think the most beneficial course of action is clear. There are two power blocks waging war for the future of mankind and I intend that the Federated Suns be on the winning side. Unfortunately that doesn't appear to be the Star League."

"You can't be suggesting we secede!" exclaimed Lawrence Davion. The President of the High Council had been silent so far. "For god's sake, if nothing else thousands – tens of thousands – of AFFS soldiers are in service with the Star League Defense Force!"

"Unfortunately that isn't entirely correct. We haven't publicised this, but the majority of those soldiers were assigned to VI and VII Corps, both of which have been essentially destroyed. What remains of VI Corps is the Seventeeth Royal Division, which is entirely drawn from the Terran Hegemony of course. Almost every soldier and spaceman we sent to join or support the SLDF has been killed or captured. At least this way, those who are prisoners might be allowed to come home."

"I'm going to draft a reply to Henry asking him to explore the possibility with Rachel Calderon-Davion of securing a mutual defense treaty with her if we withdraw from the Star League, and of her mediating a peace treaty with Protector Calderon. If my distant descendant could make peace with him, then perhaps I can too."

"I don't think it'll work, father." Vincent shook his head. "They know you're one of the 'hawks' of the Star League Council. I doubt that Calderon would trust you."

"He also knows that I spent the last few years of my life subject to dementia." The First Prince reached over and took his son's shoulder. "If they find me an unacceptable ally, then perhaps I should spend more time with my grandchildren and let some new blood govern the Suns..."

* * *

**FSS **_**Tancredi**_**, Pirate Point**

**McRae, Filtvet Commonwealth**

**29 November 2577 (28 November 3032 local calendar)**

"What sort of pirates was she expecting?" Pitcairn exclaimed as he saw the mass of icons exiting the atmosphere of McRae. There appeared to be at least a regiment of fighters – perhaps even a reinforced regiment of four wings – and they were accompanying two assault dropships.

Commodore Kate Elliott nodded thoughtfully. "And why would a militia here be worried about pirates? McRae's not near any borders – do you think that we've been mislead as to their being in good standing with New Avalon in their time."

"You might be onto something." Pitcairn had picked the planet as his first target because it was neither in easy reach from still loyal Federated Suns worlds, nor a true frontier world and as far as they could tell probably wasn't as important as nearby worlds like Crofton. He'd not expected it to be defenceless, but this was a bit much. "But perhaps we should focus on more immediate concerns: can the _Tancredi_ handle this fight: we're going to need most of the fighters covering us if we drop."

"Hard to say." Kate looked at warbook data from those fighters that were being recognised. "If those Centurions are anything like ours then they don't pose any serious threat to the ship unless they're carrying nuclear missiles. Of course some of those are a touch larger and more powerful."

The Colonel nodded. "Well, I suppose fighting them will tell us a lot. Can't go backing off just because an aerospace fighter might be carrying nuclear missiles. We'll hold off on the drop though so the fighters can give you full cover. We do have a few decent pilots so that should give us a chance to test their capabilities."

Deliberately the _Tancredi_ turned to face the oncoming forces, fighter after fighter bursting from the forward hanger doors. They were SL-25 _Samurai_ purchased from the Terran Hegemony since the formation of the Star League, a substantial improvement over the _Centurion_s used by most AFFS aerospace wings. Pitcairn had insisted on the best and Prince Alexander had supported him.

Within moments two things became apparent: firstly, even the fighters that the warbook claimed to be identifying were performing far above expectations; and secondly, the pilots really were militia rather than frontline forces. For all their determination, their experience was uneven – a few veterans trying to steer a considerably larger number of novices.

What that meant was that the crack pilots of the Davion Guards were managing to close in and savage the enemy aerospace fighters at their close ranges that the armament of the _Samurai_ demanded. Within moments half the Periphery March fighters were embroiled in a furball, squadron organisations fragmenting despite the best efforts of their leaders.

The other half – six squadrons – had managed to avoid being engaged and held to their course, rushing onwards towards the _Tancredi_.

"Would there be any advantage to taking a few 'Mechs out on the hull to add some additional firepower?" asked Pitcairn.

Elliott frowned, not at the question but at her displays. "It couldn't hurt," she said absently. "Except, of course, the mechwarriors if their cockpits are breached."

"No worse than it happening underwater," the Colonel shrugged. Unfortunately, wearing protective gear such as a pressure suit in a 'Mech cockpit was unwise since it could very easily lead to the mechwarrior being disabled by heatstroke. "What's drawing your attention from the dog-fight outside."

The commodore pointed at the icons orbiting McRae. "There's something about the stations out there that bother me. Most of them are industrial, a couple commercial but..."

"That doesn't leave many options. Military?"

The bridge compartment shook as 'above' them the brace of naval autocannon built into the nose of the _Tancredi_ spoke out in introduction to one of the assault dropships. (The dropship in question proceeded to depart the battle in several non-functional pieces, whoever says manners won't get you anywhere in life?)

"It seems unsettlingly likely. Which means that _after_ we fight our way past their mobile forces, we'll still need to batter our way past those before we can land your troops."

"Doable?"

"Probably. They are stationary targets, which will help. But it all takes time and we only have so much of that before they call in help."

Pitcairn nodded. The implications of the HPG weren't so much speed of travel – from the information available, it had only marginal advantages in speed over a chain of jumpship couriers. The problem was that an HPG could send that message to several different worlds in succession and then send another round of messages after a relatively short period of time. A courier could only go to one system and would then need at least a week to recharge its Kearny-Fuchida drive.

"Not before their reinforcements arrive then," he concluded. "Abort?"

Elliott thought about it and nodded. "You know I'd kill for one of those Lithium-Fusion Batteries the Terries have."

"Kill whom?"

"Well... you don't actually _need_ all of those mechwarriors, right?"

He laughed. "We just might." The _Tancredi_ began to turn back away from McRae, much to the relief of its surviving pilots who had noticed rather quickly that a kill ratio of two to one was rather unrewarding when you were outnumbered more than three to one. "So this hot-charging business, you're sure it won't cause any damage to the _Tancredi_ that I have to apologise to the First Prince for for?"

"I promise you, Colonel, that if anything goes wrong with the jump core as a result of this hot jump, we're not going to be explaining anything at all to the First Prince."

The decision to abort was confirmed as a good one just short of two hours later when jump-signatures started to appear. Three were ahead of them – not far from the L5 pirate point they had been heading for. Any one of the warships that arrived there would be a match for the _Tancredi_ and they were spreading out to intercept. Normally that would have been a cue to turn around and head back towards the L2 pirate point they had arrived at.

Except of course that that had been used by a ship that made the FSN's Iron Duke-class battleships look like someone's little sister.

In many ways it was fortunate that they had recovered their surviving fighters, the militia having prudently broken off rather than engage a ship that was no longer threatening their homeworld.

"We're getting a transmission from that beast, captain."

Elliott nodded. "Let me guess, a demand that we surrender?"

The communications section's officer nodded. "An Admiral Jaeger onboard... um..." He looked over at Pitcairn.

"What?"

"The admiral claims to be aboard the FCS _Pitcairn_."

_Everyone_ stopped what they were doing and looked at Pitcairn.

"Must be some other guy with the same name," he told them with aplomb. "Question is what do we do now?"

Elliott considered this. "Well unless that's some sort of gigantic freighter, we're not going to beat that battleship in a fight. So we're going to have to break past those three fast and make it to the pirate point, decelerating at maximum power to be at a safe speed when we reach the pirate point."

"That sounds dangerous."

She smiled at him. "Less dangerous than trying to take them on in a straight fight, more dangerous than surrendering."

Pitcairn nodded in understanding. "Then we need to deceive them, draw them into committing to a course that will make it harder for them to intercept us. If we hadn't hot-charged the jumpdrive, what would be our best move?"

"Running for the edge of the system. Unless they want to spend a lot of fuel risking a high speed run, they'd almost have to stay behind us and jump someone in ahead of us. Which is possible, but we could go ballistic, alter course with secondary thrusters and force them to guess where we were going to exit the sun's interdiction zone."

Pitcairn nodded. "In that case, commodore, I strongly recommend taking the best compromise course between doing that and in making a run for the pirate point. Hopefully they won't assume we're desperate enough to have risked a hot-charge."

"Colonel, I think I speak for the entire crew when I say that I really wish that we weren't in that position." Elliott turned in her seat. "Navigator, we're going to need the jump calculations a little bit sooner than I originally thought."

"Not a problem, ma'am. One jump back towards home coming up."

"Excuse me," Pitcairn enquired pleasantly. "There seems some sort of misunderstanding. We're not done yet. Pick out the next system rimwards that we know one of the spyships is lurking in. I want to send a report home but after that... well, hitting planets has been a wash so we'll try something new." He looked at the threat analysis of the battleship behind them. "Some distance from here though."

* * *

**Chateau Filtvet, Filtvet**

**Periphery March, Federated Commonwealth**

**8 December 2577 (7 December 3032 local calendar)**

Henry Davion had the uncomfortable suspicion that some would call his mission treason. Of course, it was hard to reconcile treason with obeying the instructions of your ruler, but it was also difficult to carry out instructions that meant abandoning bridges that he'd spent years building with representatives of the other Star League member states.

Rachel Calderon met him in the same chamber as before, looking out over the ornamental pond and then over the edge of the Chateau's fortifications. The small redhead was composed. "I imagine you're here to tell me the reaction of the Star League Council to their offer being declined."

"Not quite." Henry answered with a forced smile. "I imagine that they've heard it by now but the response will take a little longer to arrive. No, this is a message from my father." He paused. "One that the rest of the Star League does not know about."

"Oh?" Rachel seated herself. "What exactly does Alexander have in mind then?"

"While he doesn't believe that the risk of a civil war is as high as you believe, father does agree that such a reunion would cause problems if rushed into. So he has asked me to explore another option. How far can the Federated Suns look to you for support if we secede from the Star League?"

Rachel blinked and then smiled. "Quite a long way," she assured him. "How seriously is your father considering this?"

"I haven't spoken to him directly, but quite seriously. You understand that secession will place us in a very difficult position, flanked by the Confederation, the Combine and the Hegemony. We'll need diplomatic and military assistance if we're to survive that, particularly given our recent losses."

"Alright," the Archduchess agreed. "You've told me what you're offering, so what exactly are you looking for in terms of price?"

Henry nodded. "Firstly, a mutual defense treatment: we will guarantee not only to leave the Star League but to defend you from them but we must have your commitment that you will send troops and ships to our aid."

"That's not a problem." Rachel looked thoughtful. "We can at least provide as many regiments as you lost as Estuan, with a covering task force of warships. Quite possibly more, but of course I'm not really near your other borders so except for parts of the Draconis March, it would take some time for them to arrive."

"Yes, speaking of Estuan. I gather that the regiments captured there are actually in your custody." Henry looked appealingly at her. "As the conflict is now over, surely they would be allowed to return home?"

"That's a little more complicated. Not impossible, but you'll need to appease Jack Calderon. I might be holding onto them for him – for their own safety, generally – but they are his prisoners," pointed out Rachel. "I suppose you want me to intercede with the Magestrix for any Federated Suns citizens amongst her captives from Tellman's Mistake?"

"Ideally yes. There's no possible way that this can work without settling the issues between the Federated Suns and the Taurian Concordat. You managed it in the thirty-first century, can it be done here."

"Oddly, it would probably be easier. For all the conflicts that you had with the Concordat in the Age of War they pale in the face of the current conflict. Hanse made peace by returning the worlds lost to the Suns during the next twenty years – although honestly, I suspect that after four hundred years in the Federated Suns, they've turned into more of a headache for Jack than he'd like to admit. Prince Alexander can't make a similar concession because he's not occupying worlds, not that I'm complaining."

"Nor we. So the key is to find something to offer him?"

"To be honest, allying with the Taurians against the Star League will probably be enough," Rachel assured him. "I'm fairly sure that I can sway him if necessary."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Family influence?"

"No, but I'm on pretty good terms with Savitri Centrella and he's borrowing billions, if not trillions, from her to finance the war. If she vouches for you, it should be enough to settle any doubts he have. So, does that sound good enough?"

"It sounds tempting."

"Now you know how I felt about your own offer a few weeks ago." Rachel shrugged. "I'll be honest: the only real issue we have with the Federated Suns is your membership of the Star League. It's not in our interest to make this hard for you."

* * *

**TCN Headqurters, Samantha**

**Taurus, Taurian Concordat**

**15 December 2577 (14 December 3032 local calendar)**

"Admiral Fukuda?"

Rukia looked up from her desk. "Yes?"

Her secretary looked apologetic. "Your fourteen-hundred appointment is here early, ma'am."

She tried to remember who was coming by at fourteen hundred hours today and if they were important enough that they couldn't just wait until she was finished reviewing the report from McRae. Probably, her secretary was fairly efficient about that. "Send them in."

It wasn't until Rukia saw the Canopian Navy Royal uniform that memory of who was due finally returned. "Admiral Carrington," she said, rising to her feet and realising at that point that the other Admiral was a head taller than her. "An honour."

"Oh please. The honour is all mine." Carrington saluted, although she had technical seniority.

Rukia returned the salute. "Please take a seat." She gestured to the two chairs opposite her desk. "Welcome to Taurus."

Carrington seated herself. "Thank you." She reached into her attaché case. "Just to cover the bane of our existence, here's the documentation confirming me as commander of the Fourth Operational Fleet."

Taking the data cartridge, Rukia placed it in the security scanner and then the isolated display system. The entire contents of the cartridge, which could have held the general (but not specific) schematics for an assault dropship, was a single encoded text file. Applying the standard codes converted it into a short document signed by the Magestrix of Canopus confirming exactly what Carrington had said.

"That seems to cover the formalities," she agreed. "So, Admiral Carrington, where would you like to begin?"

The point behind the meeting wasn't just to acquaint Rukia with one of her principal colleagues for Operation Masque. It was also to consider how to integrate their forces. While each fleet was fairly well constituted by it's own doctrine, the simple fact was that the doctrines were not necessarily compatible.

"Let's go with capabilities, yours, ours and the Star League's."

Rukia nodded and then pulled out the report she had just been reading. "Then this might be of interest. Apparently there was a skirmish in the McRae system."

"Hmm... that's near the Anjin Muerto fleet base isn't it? Short fight?"

"Fortunately for the ship – a Federated Suns transport we can only presume to have been carrying raiders – Admiral Jaeger of the FCN was was trying to capture them, not destroy then and engaged with conventional missiles at long range as they were trying to withdraw. Unfortunately they wrong-footed her as to their intentions and managed to make it to the jump point without serious damage."

Carrington nodded encouragingly. "So they managed to jump out without exploding? How about jumping back in?"

"Given they must have hot-charged their drives, the jury is still out on that one. If they do turn up again I believe the Arch-Duchess intends to offer their captain a job. Outmanuvering three modern warships in the bucket they were using before a McKenna II can overtake is rather impressive even with the headstart that they had. Admiral Jaeger was positively frosty in her after-action report. Anyway, the key point is that they had significantly improved the missile defences."

"That does sound rather ominous. How good is it?"

"If the numbers are to be believed, somewhat inferior to that of one of your block-III Diana escort dropships."

"Which would probably be enough to protect it from the rather light missile armaments we prefer. Not quite sufficient to handle serious bombardment from the Federated Commonwealth Navy and wholly inadequate against your missile cruisers."

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into how to counter our missile cruisers," Rukia noted.

"You have a navy that until recently was six times as large as ours and were part of the Federated Commonwealth, a union that intended to stop the Succession Wars by digesting everything in its path if they offered the slightest excuse. Why do you think most of our fixed defences are along the border with the Concordat rather than the Free Worlds League?"

"Well take notes. They didn't just put that laser array onto the ship, they also put it aboard their onboard complement of shuttles and used them to provide a perimeter of point defense. They lost three shuttles in the process and took eighteen missile hits anyway, but that's out of more than forty actual shots taken."

"Not a bad ratio. So we can expect to see similar defences in operation when we enter the Terran Hegemony. That will be make life a little harder. Refitting that level of point defense onto shuttles will be quite a bit easier than doing so for warships. It also suggests that their design process is going to catch up quite a bit in the immediate future." Carrington frowned. "Except for the current generation of propulsion systems we've been introducing over the last few years we're not really as advanced over the Star League as we'd like them to think."

Rukia nodded her agreement. "It's why we need to break them apart now – destroy the infrastructure that they can use to build a fleet closer to our own capabilities. Fortunately, with the way that the Hegemony hoards its technical advantages, that's not as many shipyards as it might seem. Krester's yards over Terra, Graham IV and Carver V; the Dassault-Shimmon at New Earth and Federated Defense Systems at Keid. Almost all of their warship construction takes place in one of those systems. Take them out and they're vulnerable."

The Canopian Admiral pulled on a lock of her hair "I realise it's more a political consideration than a military one, but what if they give the technology to the other Member states to build?"

"Then they'll need at least two years to develop the capability to construct the advanced jump cores and weapon systems – based on how long it took us to do so when we have every bit of documentation that they developed over a course of a hundred years." Rukia spread her hands. "By that point any one of our states could build over a hundred more warships and be redeployed to strike at those shipyards as well."

"Well that's a relief." Carrington reached into her attaché case. "My fleet will be made up of thirty battlegroups – twenty-five of cruisers and five of battlecruiser monitors. I suggest using the latter to screen the fleet train: they're fast and agile but they need to stay near their jumpships so they may as well stay near everyone else's. They'll also be carrying roughly half a million tons of fuel and ammunition for us so we'd like to keep them relatively intact. Oh, and we'll have four yardships capable of repairs to ships massing eight hundred kilotons or smaller."

"Sounds fairly promising. What's the make up of your cruiser battlegroups?"

"Two cruisers, two carrier dropships and two assault dropships each. Between the cruisers and carriers that comes to a pair of aerospace regiments per battlegroup."

"No destroyers or corvettes as escorts?" aksed Rukia.

"We did a lot of simulating and concluded that the best escort for a cruiser was another cruiser."

* * *

**FSS **_**Tancredi**_**, Zenith Point**

**Uninhabited System, Filtvet Commonwealth**

**15 December 2577**

Pitcairn didn't expect to be accosted by Commodore Elliott as he exited his 'Mech. For lack of anything else productive to do, he and half his battalion had been out on the hull, assisting the work-crews patching up the damage to the _Tancredi_'s hull with heavy lifting and the occasional welding with their lasers tuned down.

He'd have sent all his battalion out, but one of the missiles that had hit the _Tancredi_ had taken out half of the drop-bays while the 'Mechs were still loaded for the drop. Fortunately only three Mechwarriors and seven techs had been in the compartment at the time, but thirteen battlemechs were reduced to scrap metal and four more, although repairable, were simply not high enough on the list of priorities

"Well you're getting your wish!"

"You found strawberries?" he asked, unstrapping his cooling vest.

"No." She glared at him. "Remember how I told you that given the damage we took getting away from McRae we'd have to return to a safe shipyard."

"I do, " Pitcairn agreed amicably. "And once you'd explained it to me in small enough words, I agreed that it would unfortunately be necessary to abort our mission. We even told the spyship to take word ahead that we would need to return via the nearest shipyard."

Elliott nodded. At least he assumed that that was why her her forehead kept hitting the bulkhead. "It is now necessary, due to the damage taken at McRae, that we resume our mission."

"...smaller words please. I'm just a dumb ground-pounder."

"We just found out the jumpsail has not been charging the jump core. Something wrong with the feed, probably due to damage when we hot-charged. And we don't have the tools to repair that."

Pitcairn frowned. "Well if we can't charge the drive..."

"Oh we can charge it alright, but only from the reactor. Which means we're going to run through our hydrogen fairly quickly." Elliot removed her cap and ran her fingers through her sweaty hair before replacing it. "We jettisoned a lot of our tanks when we were escaping McRae it was that or have the onboard fires reach them. But now we only have enough hydrogen to charge the jump drive twice – maybe three times if we hot-charge to reduce the time we're sitting on full life support. Which I wouldn't recommend even if we hadn't already done one hot-charge, we'd be operating on batteries and need to be towed off the jump point when we arrive."

"And our nearest safe port is Jesup, which is seventy light years away. Unfortunate." The colonel thought for a moment. "So we'll need to get some more hydrogen. That's going to be tricky." He glanced at the washroom across from the mech bays. "I'll need to think about it, give me a few minutes."

Elliott nodded and watched him enter the room for a moment and then shook her head.

Inside the cramped washroom, Pitcairn stripped down and began to wipe at his sweat-soaked skin with a washcloth. Water was too closely rationed aboard the _Tancredi_ for him to take the long cold shower that he craved after several hours in his BattleMech cockpit.

"So we need hydrogen," he mused. "Who has more hydrogen? Other jumpships and – if we can find one – a recharge station. Dropships? Probably not enough unless they were tankers. Something to think about. Two jumps. One to reach a target system, one to leave it. That means we have to arrive covertly and recharge before they know we're there. That'll be tricky. Could we jump in outside the system and coast in while we recharge..."

"Maybe."

Pitcairn turned quickly, having been too engrossed in his thoughts to hear anyone enter. Commodore Elliot was peeling off her jumpsuit over at the next tap, obviously having some cleaning up of her own to take care of. "Kate?"

"The timing would be tricky," she told him, wetting her own cloth before starting to clean herself. "But for a system we have good data on, it might be possible to jump in without too much risk of satellite detection."

"So we gamble on intercepting a suitable ship?" he asked.

Elliott nodded, which did interesting things to the rest of her in micro-gravity. "Honestly? It's that or surrender."

"Well we don't want that," Pitcairn agreed. "Wash your back?"

"You think I had another reason to join you in here?" she asked, incredulously, and stepped closer.

* * *

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**25 December 2577**

Classical music from one of the finest orchestras of the Inner Sphere was the backdrop to a thousand conversations through the newly completed ceremonial halls of the Court of the Star League. Looking down one of the balconies, Alexander Davion could see conversations across national lines that would have been unthinkable twenty years ago.

This is Ian Cameron's dream, he thought. Not the war to invade the periphery but all our peoples gathering together in friendship. This is what I'm considering walking away from. Isn't worth fighting for?

"Quite a piece of architecture, isn't it?"

Alexander turned his head and saw the young Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation standing beside him. If he had been younger he might have appreciated the way her elegant dress clung to her more. "It is quite the sight," he agreed.

Ursula offered him one of the two champagne glasses she was holding. "And yet of course we're celebrating its grand opening on the first anniversary of what might be the end of the Star League."

"That's rather pessimistic," Alexander said, trying not to hide his own doubts behind obviously false bluster. "It's been a bad year, but we know what we're dealing with now."

"Yes, and it's far more capable opposition than our worst expectations. You pushed for a war against three of the periphery realms – well, three and a half if you count the Rim Worlds."

"Given that they apparently put up more resistance than the Magistracy and the Alliance, I think we can count that as four," Alexander admitted.

"Well now we're facing five. Perhaps more than that if the reports of another future state out beyond the Rim Worlds Republic are correct. How does that decision look now, looking back?"

Alexander sipped on his champagne. "In hindsight, one that would have had unforeseen consequences even without last Christmas' little joke by the universe."

"'Unforeseen circumstances'? That's a very bloodless way to describe what's happening."

"What do you care, Madame Liao? You've chosen – wisely as it turns out – not to directly involve yourself."

Ursula gestured for him to move aside so she could look down from the balcony. "I'm still right in the middle of the conflicts and since I still pay taxes to the Star League, I'm still technically one of their enemies, no matter how diplomatic I'm being towards them."

"I don't think you need to concern yourself immediately about the Taurians," Alexander advised. "Calderon has large forces deployed out in the Outworlds Alliance and there are three hundred, maybe four hundred ships deployed along his border with me."

"He has another sizeable force on my border, although they haven't struck across the border yet, so I don't have any New Syrtis or New Samarkand to complain about."

"How many ships do they have?" Despite the worrying information, Alexander chuckled suddenly. "Perhaps they Periphery have are only planning to attack worlds that have names with the initials N and S."

"Well in that case they might be planning a deep strike on New Sagan," Ursula replied with black humour. "Although it's beyond me what they might consider a viable target there."

"Putting that aside," Alexander offered, "What are your impressions of the Canopians? I've not had any direct contact but from what little I can find, they seem to be providing primarily economic aid to the other nations."

The Chancellor nodded. "It would fit with their observed priorities. Their ambassador was very focused on trying to open up trade into the Confederation. And since their attack on Tellman's Mistake they've not shown their hand militarily. Almost as if it was a warning or staged to provide themselves with credibility. 'We are a serious military, you cannot take us lightly'."

"Could they be bluffing?"

"I don't think that they're quite the military powerhouse that the Taurians are, but they've doubtless got some considerable forces." She drained her glass. "From what little the Maskirova have picked up there's a planet along their mutual border that the Canopians have placed under permanent interdiction - no one enters, no one leaves – enforced by a naval squadron. There are strong hints that there was some sort of biological weapon unleashed there."

He frowned. "So much for their respect for the Ares Conventions."

"If their history is to be believed, they were re-adopted only quite recently, in response to an extremely destructive war employing weapons of mass destruction. I think we should be glad that they have decided to respect those laws, some ofthe alternatives are extremely worrying."

The Chancellor and the First Prince were leaving the balcony when Ursula frowned suddenly. "What is Alistair doing here?" she asked, looking sharply at the young man in a black suit with capellan-green trim who had just entered the chamber. "He's supposed to be on Sian. Excuse me."

Alexander nodded and then spotted Ian Cameron watching the two Liao siblings converge with a pained look on his face.

What's on his mind? the First Prince wondered. He gestured sharply to a passing waiter and took two glasses of champagne from the man's tray. The Chancellor had provided him with one earlier and returning the favour was a reasonable excuse to intrude – if only briefly, upon the conversation.

"- your own fault," Alistair said firmly. "You've failed to consider the needs of our people and forced me to take these steps."

"I've done nothing of the sort," Ursula insisted. "You can't possibly believe that you have the support for this."

Her brother shook his head, dark hair rippling as a result. "I thought that you might over-estimate your support." He produced a slim scroll from an inside pocket. "A majority of the House of Scions voted to remove you from the Prefectorate and petitioned the election of a new Chancellor who might take our obligations to the Star League more seriously." The younger of Terrance Liao's twin children presented the scroll to Ursula Liao. "Duchess Liao, you have been recalled to face a trial by your peers. The charge is treason."

"I refuse."

"You no longer hold diplomatic status, sister," Alistair pointed out, "Your extradition to the Confederation to face investigation is guarenteed under the international law enforcement clauses of the Star League Accords."

"Incorrect." Alexander stepped forwards to intercede. "Ursula Liao is under my protection. If she wishes, she may have refuge in my embassy compound or within the borders the Federated Suns for as long as she desires it."

Alistair scowled. "This is a serious mistake, Prince Davion. You need our support against the Periphery. Would you jeopardise our relations over this minor matter?"

"You seem to forget, young man, that your grandfather drove his own sister into exile on New Avalon once." The First Prince met Alistair's appeal with cool disdain. "As I recall your father only became Chancellor after that sister and her daughter reigned. I doubt that my hospitality is ill-judged."

"Thank you, Prince Davion, but your offer is..." Ursula began regretfully.

"I have some experience of grasping relatives that may be relevant to this situation," Alexander pointed out. "At least, permit me this small act of gallantry until you have communicated with your capital. You can hardly make decisions based on such an unreliable source."

Alistair Liao's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the slight and he was about to speak when Ian Cameron entered the conversation. "Ah, Alistair. I didn't expect you to be here," he observed. "I think I saw the Captain-General just a moment ago and it seems an opportune moment to discuss the co-ordination of the CCAF with the SLDF and FWLM along the Canopian border."

The younger man paused. "You're right," he agreed. "My apologies, Prince Davion, Ms. Liao. My duties as Chancellor will have to take me away from this _enthralling_ conversation."

As Alistair walked away, both Ursula and Alexander turned towards Ian, their eyes accusing. "I'm sorry about this," the First Lord apologised. "I had no idea that he would make a scene like this."

"But you knew what he was up to." The accusation came from Ursula.

Ian met her eyes, uncomfortably but with conviction. "I was aware, yes. As an internal matter of the Capellan Confederation, I felt it was not my place to intervene."

"I see." Her look was angry. "I doubt that that will satisfy the rest of the Star League Council, Director-General."

"Indeed. And if you did more than turn a blind eye, Ian, then I _will_ nail you to the wall," warned the First Prince. "You're not looking like a very reputable ally at this moment."

"I assure you that I did no such thing."

Ursula turned to Alexander. "I believe I will take advantage of your kind offer, Prince Davion. I find that the atmosphere of this gathering has grown... rancid."

Ian visibly flinched, something that Ursula took unkind satisfaction from.

"Of course," the First Prince agreed smoothly. "I'll call for a limousine immediately." His eyes flicked to Ian. "I'm sure that no one will object."

"Thank you." Ursula glanced around. "I need to speak to my staff. It wouldn't be right to simply disappear and leave them adrift."

"Five minutes?"

"Thank you." She handed him her empty glass and then turned away, to inform her aides of the situation.

"What in the world were you thinking, Ian?"

"I'd have thought you'd understand, Alexander, that we can't afford for the Capellans to align themselves with the Periphery. Ursula was already actively trading with Canopus despite the restrictions that we placed on that, slanting her neutrality towards the Periphery. How long do you think it would be until the Confederation was an open road for the Taurians to start striking all along the Capellan March, or against Oriente."

"Or even into the Hegemony?" Alexander asked tightly.

"That too. I'm telling you the truth: I provided Alistair with no assistance. He was going to make a move anyway, I simply chose not to advise Ursula of her brother's ambitions. As a result he's been able to take over cleanly and with the minimum of fuss. The Confederation will participate fully, which gives us immediate reinforcements along the border with the Taurians and Canopians, as well as opening up several shipyards, which we are going to need desperately in the next few years."

"Quite a bargain," admitted the older man. "All it's cost you is the trust of the rest of the Council. However you excuse your actions under the letter of the Accords, none of us will ever be able to avoid wondering what you are hiding from the rest of us."

Turning away he paused and looked back at Ian Cameron. "Last Christmas brought the Star League enemies we'd never imagined. But when historians look back, they might suggest that this Christmas was far more damaging to us."

"Have a merry Christmas, Ian. But don't anticipate a happy new year."


	10. Book Three, Chapter One

Book Three:

Conflict, Centre Stage

**Crystal Palace, Crimson**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**31 December 2577 (30 December 3032 local calendar)**

It was the last day of two years, but Savitri Centrella couldn't help but feel just a touch cheated out of the thirty-first day of December. Of course, it was exactly three-hundred and sixty-five days since the last New Year's Eve, but this was supposed to have been a leap year.

Oh well. It had been her own idea to trim off the last day of the year and it was a sight too late to change her mind, woman's pregorative or no woman's pregorative.

There were fireworks outside, and behind her was a warm bed with warmer bedmates... not Richard, but that was a common enough, no doubt he had found a willing companion. Savitri's hand crept to her belly and she smiled sly for a moment before turning her mind back to the brightly coloured lights in the sky.

Third of April, 2584 – a little more than six years from now – had also been marked by fire in the sky. Crystalla Centrella had wryly pointed out a pretty new star: the FWLS _Albert Marik_ in geostationary orbit in menacing orbit above her capital at Delphi. And scores of dropships had brought the SLDF down onto Salonika to do battle in the untouched wilderness surrounding the cities of the capital.

Now the artificial constellations were of Canopian artifice: dozens of shipyards and hundreds of defense platforms, eight powerful dreadnoughts permanently stationed as the heart of the defensive fleet and uncountable dropships... and the landscape beneath them was torn and polluted as a result of a century of reckless exploitation in order maintain some level of industrial output during the Succession Wars. Terraforming projects were beginning to repair the worst of the damage, but they would take decades to complete.

A discreet movement in the pocket of her dressing gown alerted the Magestrix to an incoming message. Reaching one hand into a pocket, she touched the bracelet, de-activating the alert before crossing the room on bare feet and slipping out the door.

Savitri's private study was nothing like the more formal offices used for meetings and the occasional recording of a public announcement. It was actually slightly larger, but cluttered with cabinets and shelving to the point that there was not room for much more than a couple of armchairs and computer terminals.

Slipping into one of the chairs, Savitri took the blanket folded over one arm and spread it across her lap, letting the folds spill down her legs to cover her feet. The Crystal Palace was spectacular but despite her best efforts it wasn't particularly cozy.

Keying a code into the work terminal at her side, a screen lit up a few yards away, displaying another office – this one halfway across the city in the Magistracy Intelligence Ministry's office complex. It took her a moment to Barbara Mawdsley, the section chief of the still-reconstituting Capella desk.

"Your highness," the silver-haired official reported. "I'm sorry to disturb you but we have had an alarming report from the Confederation. HMS _Brontosaur_ has jumped into the Westerhand System and reports being engaged by three Du Shi Wang battleships of the Capellan Navy."

Savitri frowned. The _Brontosaur_ was a Canopus-class cruiser that she had stationed outside the Capellan system of Altorra to act as a relay for communications with the Chancellor. A severing of communications could mean only one thing: the war had gained a new front. "I understand," she replied. "Until otherwise informed, we shall assume that the Capellans are now hostile. Circulate this information to all commands."

Mawdsley bowed her head slightly. "Already underway."

"Thank you." Savitri closed the channel unceremoniously and punched another set of commands into her terminal, dialling the command centre of the Canopian Navy Royal.

"Magestrix?" the surprised voice of the duty officer manning the headquarters at this late hour replied. "How can I serve you?"

Under other circumstances, the Magestrix might have asked the young ComCapt if she had plans for the following evening, but this wasn't the time. "Send a priority message to all commands. Capellan vessels are to be considered potentially hostile and all shipments embarking for the Confederation are to be halted on my authority."

"My lady?"

"Expect a report from the _Brontosaur_ to cross your desk soon." It didn't surprise Savitri that Naval Headquarters was nto yet informed of the situation: MIM's procedures focused on streamlined reporting to central authority while the CNR would first deal with a crisis locally, rather than wait for instructions that might not arrive for days. The lag would only be a day at most – hardly a concern on an interstellar scale – while the detailed report went from Westerhand to sector headquarters at Betelgeuse, then the District Command Centre on Andurien and finally to Canopus IV.

Even in the thirty-first century, a commander in the field had to use initiative and – hopefully – good judgement.

All thoughts of sleep banished, Savitri felt the urge to think and cast the blanket aside so that she could stand and thread her way back and forth through the clutter of the room.

Losing access to Capellan markets wasn't going to do anything good to the economy. She wasn't advertising the fact but the reserves of foreign capital she'd built up were being spent faster than they were accumulating despite austerity measures when it came to civilian spending. It wasn't a crisis, yet, but it offended her thrifty soul.

It wasn't bad enough that war was expensive, it was also cutting into her sources of income. There was only so much she could squeeze out of the wealthy of the periphery in payment for prolong and rejuvenation treatments before their own economies began to suffer, taking her right back to square one.

A chirp from the terminal indicated a new message had arrived for her, although the lack of an accompanying vibration inn the bracelet she now wore suggested it was not of the highest urgency. Nonetheless, since she was awake anyway...

Recognising the encoded contents as a diplomatic missive from Filtvet, Savitri went to a bookshelf and selected one volume from a long running Lyran science fiction series. The cipher for the communications was built around using one of the hundreds of books in the saga – a different one each time, as a source of substitutions.

Working with a reporter's notepad and pen it took almost an hour for the Magestrix to decode it, but a message of this kind was not the sort of thing to be delegated. Her excitement grew as word by word the contents became clear. When it was finally done she took a moment to read it and then laughed. No, she positively chortled.

The small fireplace in her study wasn't entirely ornamental and she used it to burn her notes from the decryption, raking the ashes over to ensure that they were completely destroyed.

The message from Rachel Calderon-Davion-Gallagher or whatever order she was listing her names in this week didn't shed light on the Capellan situation but it did offer the possibility of a more than worthy substitute. Nonetheless she remained concerned about Ursula Liao's change of policy – assuming of course that Ursula was behind it. The fact that it would be four hundred years before a Chancellor was successfully usurped in the history she knew of didn't mean that it couldn't happen much sooner in this new history that they were making.

The news of Capellan aggression would need to be spread, but it didn't merit such a secure code. Best to keep the private personal codes for messages such as Rachel's. Instead she brought up one of the encryption programmes on her terminal, picking out one-time encodes from the list of many exchanged by the diplomats of all states. She'd need to communicate the news to all her allies so it was fortunate that the computer could do in split seconds what had taken her an hour to manage.

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**2 January 2578**

There was an elephant in the chamber of the Star League Council.

Metaphorically, of course – there was probably enough space in the chamber for a literal elephant, but why would a large endangered mammal be brought to face the Star League Council?

Alistair Liao didn't look particularly elephantine. In fact he looked rather petulant, which might have had something to do with the fact that his inaugural speech wasn't gripping the rest of the Council. Aldo Lestrade, representing the Lyran Commonwealth during Kevin Steiner-Dinesen's minority, had even yawned although that could be ascribed to the Duke having spent the last two nights at lavish parties and the meeting having begun before noon.

"Thank you, Chancellor," Ian Cameron said when Alistair was done. "I'm glad to welcome yourself and Duke Lestrade to our Council. While there is quite a bit of routine business to take care of, I feel we should start by discussing the Periphery."

There were a few murmers of agreement.

Alistair, perhaps hoping to retain the spotlight, cleared his throat. "The ambassador sent to speak to Protector Calderon was rejected in rather harsh terms. He did discover, however, that were the Protector to be incapacited for any reason then his wife would act as regent for the Concordat. As a Steiner it might be hoped that she could be appealed to."

The Duke of Skye leant forwards. "As Protector Calderon does not appear to have a military background it is unlikely that he will take the forefront of battle. His death or incapacity might help our cause but it does not appear likely."

"Also," Ian Marik added, "The reports from your sister's ambassador indicate that there is a deep degree of opposition to the Star League within the Concordat. It is possible that if Lady Steiner-Calderon were to seek a _detente_ with us that she would be overthrown. There is recent example..."

"If that is a slight upon me...!" Alistair accused sharply.

"I believe it is a reference to the fate of Lord Amaris," Ian Cameron said soothingly.

"It was," Ian Marik agreed. "But if the shoe fits, Chancellor, I hope that it is a comfortable one."

"We are getting away from the point." Hehiro Kurita's demeanor remained cool despite recent reverses. "Taurus, Canopus and Prince Davion's rebellious province have all declined to make peace. However, with the exception of the attack on New Syrtis they have thus far been content to remain within their borders. Our overall strategy with regard to them appears to be successful for the moment. It is the situation with regard to the Outworlds and the Rim Worlds that should concern us."

Under other circumstances Lestrade might have felt satisfaction at the embarrassment that Hehiro must be feeling at having his capital invaded. With Viola Steiner-Dinesen's death a recent wound, he was surprised to find that he actually felt sympathy for the Coordinator. Obviously he was in need of medication.

"Currently the advance on Apollo is deadlocked on Persistance and Treeline," he reported. "We've gathered considerable information and it's clear that the Rim Worlds Republic has essentially been torn apart."

"They are putting up formidable resistance for a nation in such a state," Alistair pointed out.

"I said torn apart, not collapsed. It's clear that there is a seventh state from the future, this one somewhere beyond the Dark Nebula. Their leader – Queen Grimm, I gather – pushed the situation on Apollo past the breaking point and then stitched the coreward regions of the Republic into a coalition. No doubt she will move from that to direct incorporation given time but right at the moment they ned her support against us too much to look too closely at her motives."

"And the rest of the Rim Worlds Republic?" asked Ian.

Lestrade shrugged. "They were strongholds of the Rift Republicans for the most part – far enough away from Queen Grimm's Confederation that they decided to go their own way. Of course from what I hear they have the Marians to worry about now."

"Yes, the Marians." Ian Marik looked thoughtful. "We know little enough about them. I'd rather have them invading the Rim Worlds than the Free Worlds though."

Ian Cameron cleared his throat. "The Central Intelligence Directorate has been putting together a profile on the minor periphery states. I will have copies of the full details forwarded to each of you but in general it would seem that the Periphery in the thirty-first century was divided into the major realms – former Star League territorial states – and minor realms that for the most part got their start as pirate strongholds. The Tortugans, for example, were apparently a plague upon the outer regions of the Federated Suns for almost three centuries before an ambitious Lyran mercenary conquered them and got something approximating civilisation started."

The other Ian at the table shook his head. "I have a few sources of information about the Marian League, largely because they were Free Worlds League allies in the thirty-first century so some FWLM personnel were present and managed to cross the border."

"You have the floor, Captain-General."

"The Marians were deliberately founded just over a hundred years ago by the O'Reilly dynasty in a deliberate attempt to mimic ancient Rome. The money ran out before they were self-sufficent so they started raiding worlds sworn to House Marik or House Centrella for resources. Since both had other concerns, they got away with it until a crackdown on pirates in the 3020s. At that point they got respectable and absorbed several neighbouring states through diplomatic means."

"My sources have been quite cagey about Marian military capability but they appear to be numerically equivalent to what we were expecting from the Canopians before last Christmas: a dozen or so BattleMech regiments with conventional regiments in the usual ratios, along with perhaps thirty warships. As usual their technological level is in advance of our own but I'm getting the distinct impression that despite being smaller and less established that the Marians have managed to stay, if anything, _ahead_ of their neighbours in some respects."

Aldo Lestrade choked out: "Are you saying that the Commonwealth's new neighbours might be _worse_ than the Taurians?"

The Captain-General thought about that for a moment. "Not yet, but I get the impression they're working on that."

**FSS **_**Tancredi**_**, Zenith Point**

**Ebro, Filtvet Commonwealth**

**26 January 2578**

Stealth in space was both very easy and very hard.

Easy because space was huge and it was difficult to look at all of it at once. Hard because space was largely empty and therefore it was fairly hard to obstruct or conceal something's presence.

Something like four hundred thousand tons of warship, for example.

However if you're outside of effective radar range and operating on very low power power levels, you can hope that no one is looking for you. The Tancredi had jumped into Ebro's star system well outside any of the generally utilised regions of the system and coasted gently in towards the Zenith jump point, using only secondary thrusters far less likely to be detected than the massive (and fuel consuming) fusion torches that usually propelled her.

The military transport had fully charged jumpdrives now, but without more reactor mass than she had at the moment, the next jump would be her last.

"How does that one look as a prospect?"

Kate Elliott nodded as she saw the telemetry from one of the lurking small craft that were acting as the _Tancredi_'s eyes and ears. "Look at those engines," she said. "Externally mounted? Far too vulnerable for a military craft. She must be a freight hauler."

"Big enough?" asked Pitcairn. His principal interest in spacecraft had been 'will it get my Mech there in one piece' but he'd learned a great deal more before setting out on this expedition.

"Fifty kilotons or thereabouts. They'd be mad to have less than two hundred tons of fuel aboard. Yes, that will do." She tapped a control. "This is Elliott. Be ready to move in and jam the communications for that dropship and the jumpship waiting for it. We're going to need to do this quickly or there will be a great deal of trouble jumping in on top of us before we can get the fuel moved across."

The dropship in question was moving out towards the jump point where a civilian-looking jumpship, two of its three collars already loaded with freighters, was waiting for it. Ebro, being roughly halfway between the systems of Sherwood and Memphis, was usually skipped past by the main trading routes as modern jumpships could easily jump from Sherwood to Memphis or vice versa without needing to stop at the mid-way point.

As a result, trade was not busy and there were few targets for this little bit of commerce raiding. Piracy, in all but the legal definition. On the other hand, while Sherwood (or Memphis, or both) might well have some patrolling warships, Ebro didn't appear to have any. No doubt one could arrive with reasonable speed from a neighbouring system but it would take time.

Due to the speed of light, it would be take ten or fifteen minutes for anyone on Ebro to realise that communication with the dropship and jumpship was being jammed, in the event that they were watching – which Pitcairn assumed they would be. He was confident that responses would then follow at the much slower speed of bureaucracy, meaning perhaps an hour before word could be sent via their HPG to a neighbouring system. And then a response force would need to ready themselves for action.

Which meant one or more warships could arrive in two hours – perhaps less. Ridiculously fast for interstellar response time.

Pitcairn's little command had that long to carry out their heist and their getaway. Which meant striking at the last possible moment and then departing at the earliest possible moment after that.

In the event, things went both well and poorly. A pair of gunships 'bounced' both the jumpship and the dropship, blankieting them with jamming that would reduce any broadcast transmissions to background static before using tightbeam microwave transmission to demand surrender.

So far, so good.

The jumpship's response was – Pitcairn hoped – atypical. Firstly it opened fire on the gunships, something more or less pointless since the two lasers on the jumpship were significantly outgunned by the weapons array of the gunships. Secondly it jumped out out of the system, taking with it the aft half of one gunship, which had seen the danger and _very nearly_ managed to get out of the jumpfield.

"Nasty," Elliott observed coldly while the other gunship of that pair picked up survivors. "I don't know where they'll wind up with another hundred tons of metal inside their field but if they do jump safely we just lost a lot of time."

"Then we go with Plan B?"

"I still think we should have called it Plan D." The commodore paused. "For dumb."

"I prefer 'danger' myself," Pitcairn replied lightly. "Do it."

She nodded and ordered: "Take us in." The time for stealth was over. The decks of the _Tancredi_ rumbled as the engines spun up and then for the first time in several days the crew was under gravity again as the transport closed in on the jump-point at one-gravity of acceleration.

"What do you want from us, we don't have a valuable cargo!" the dropship's captain was protesting. "The navy will hunt you down for piracy if you do this!"

"Just dock the damn ship," ordered Elliott. "We'll take what we came here for and we'll leave you behind. No fuss, no one gets hurt, nothing taken that your insurance won't cover. Now do I need to have the gunships out there prod you a little?"

"Jesu, no!" the man blurted. "You'd kill us all! There's nothing in the holds but hydrogen fuel!"

Pitcairn and Elliot looked at each other.

"It's better to be lucky that good," Pitcairn told her with a grin.

"A man gets lucky once and it goes to his head." Elliott didn't notice the double entendre until she'd spoken and then only years of maintaining a command face kept a blush off her cheeks. The commodore turned the microphone, which she'd muted for her conversation. "That's more your problem than ours. Now unless you're as fanatical as a DCMS kamikaze, get ready to dock your ship nice and easy."

The dropship crew had time to talk it over in the twenty minutes while they and the _Tancredi_ slowed down to a nice, safe closing speed and orientated themselves probably. Only one of the crew voiced the idea of going out in a blaze of glory – since igniting the thirty-thousand tonnes of liquid hydrogen aboard would pretty definitely cripple or destroy the _Tancredi_ if they did so while docked. The looks of scepticism quelled him almost immediately but the rest of the crew decided it would be safest for him to stay locked in a bunkroom while they did whatever the warship overing over them demanded.

Which was apparently to pump five hundred tons of liquid hydrogen from their cargo into the reserve fuel tank of the _Tancredi_. The AFFS Colonel who appeared to be in charge even paid them, if a verigraphed piece of paper promising that the value of the hydrogen could be redeemed from the Federated Suns government once the war was over counted as payment.

And then they were undocked and the _Tancredi_ jumped away, leaving the crew to wonder when their Navy would arrive and more importantly, what was going to happen about their jump transit to Sherwood.

**Sela-Sys, Stewart**

**Stewart Commonwealth, Free Worlds League**

**1 February 2578**

Grace Jones had spent no small amount of time looking at Thera-class warships from space. It happened every time she took a shuttle to or from FWLS _Harpy_. She'd always find a way to look out a window at her ship, just to remind herself of how it looked from outside, rather than the calculated tangle of compartments and compartments that she saw most of the time.

But now, for the first time in almost two years, when she traced the shape with her eyes she was not looking at the _Harpy_.

Each of the four principal docks at Sela-Sys largest shipyard contained incomplete hulls for ships intended to duplicate her beloved warship.

"I can't believe it's been done so quickly, Claude."

Claudian bin Sahid, now wearing the same rank insignia as Grace, took a moment to turn his gaze from the leftmost dock where his own command was being constructed: FWLS _Lexington_. "I know. It seems startling but remember – we're looking at almost another year to complete the work. Major components like this are relatively easy – it's the internal fittings that will take most of the time."

"The Marians could build faster – in fact I'm sure they are building faster."

"I know." Claude looked again at the Lexington. "But those modern, efficient yards took years to build. Remember: the Canopians started building up their navy in 3021 – it took them more than a decade to go from constructing light dropships to having yards that could build appreciable numbers of warships."

"Being only ten years behind them may not be a comfort," pointed out Grace with a trace of worry evident in her voice.

"Please, six years at worst."

"Six years then. Do you really think that the war will last ten years? The Captain General asked me before I came out here how many ships I thought that the Canopians would have by now."

Claude thought back to the intelligence reports he'd read back in the thirty-first century. "Forty or so of those corvettes they call battlecruisers – they stole a march on us with those, building them without jumpdrives as a bluff – and forty or so cruisers from the yards at Canopus and Andurien. They probably have more under construction though."

"There are also rumours of at least one other shipyard possibly at Luxen," Grace told him, knowing that that nugget of intelligence hadn't been declassified to his old rank. "And there are their 'pocket warship' dropships. Right now that probably means that Canopus has a slight edge in numbers as well as their technical advantage. If the Marians decide to back off from fighting the Rim Worlders they could throw in their fleet and we guess that as being about half the size of Canopian navy."

"If thay're that much ahead, then why haven't they attacked? You know how Canopians wage war: they could have had squadrons of warships striking at Oriente and Regulan yards before now and that would have crippled our war efforts. But instead they're holding back inside their borders."

They looked at each other. "It's going to be big, isn't it?"

Grace nodded. "That's my guess. Centrella is holding back until she completes her current production and has it ready to attack and then she'll send a massive force out. The only question is whether she'll strike for Atreus to take out our leadership or Capella to place Ursula Liao back on her throne."

"I think we have to assume that it will be Atreus," Claude warned. "The Taurians are supposed to have a much larger fleet and they're just as near to Capella as she is."

"You don't think that Calderon will be dealing with New Avalon?"

"Not with Archduchess Calderon-Davion on his flank – the AFFS is dispersed to cover against her and... well, how effective do you think they'd be? This isn't Hanse Davion's crack troops or the Federated Commonwealth Navy that we're talking about. I asked around and the Federated Suns doesn't have the finest military reputation in this era. The Taurians have very little to worry about right now. They can easily spare ships and regiments for Capella."

Grace nodded. "I see your logic. Still that leaves us the problem of defending Atreus – particularly when the SLDF are asking for greater reinforcements."

"Unless you've got a hundred warships in your pocket that's a tall order... I know that look in your eye. What do you have in mind?"

She pointed away from the powerful lines of FWLS _Lexington_ and toward the Sela-sys dropship construction facility. "Those can be built an awful lot faster, can't they? How small a dropship could be made and still contain a capital weapon – a missile launcher, say?"

"Pretty small. A Buccaneer probably has the tonnage although I'd really not suggest taking one into battle against even a Canopian dropship, much less one of their cruisers."

"Not one, no. But what about twenty or fifty? Particularly if each was carrying nuclear-tipped missiles?"

Claude swallowed. "I know I'd not enjoy being on the receiving end."

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**2 February 2578**

Jervis Siever rather enjoyed the office that he'd earmarked as his own. The Consul wasn't quite sure what Gregory Amaris had used it for, but it suited him down to the ground, with spectacular views over the capital and sumptuous furnishings. The staff of the palace were unctuous and efficient in serving his needs... he had to admit to himself that he dreaded the thought of returning to his own less sophisticated headquarters upon Barcelona.

Still, that might not be necessary. The only thing that was stopping him from governing the Rift Republic as well as his own Rim Worlds was the fact that he was sharing power with his fellow Consul Charlotte Grimm and she was insisting upon an election for a new Consul to represent the Rift Republic.

"It would be terribly unfortunate if some accident were to befall Queen Grimm," he mused out loud. "I might have to declare a state of emergency."

"One Consul, effectively unlimited authority... that would take us back to Gregory's day wouldn't it, Consul Siever," his guest asked drily. The replacement of the Rim Worlds Republic had done nothing to improve Silvio Cana's place in the world – his regiment was participating in the fighting against the Lyran Commonwealth but not under his command. Instead he'd received a sideways promotion into a staff position that might in theory be the stepping stone to higher things... but no such prospect beckoned.

"That was only a year or two ago." Jervis gauged the disgruntled officer's mood and added. "I suppose you'd call them the good old days though."

"To an extent," Cana agreed cynically. "Let's not get too enthusiastic. Whatever the legitimacy or otherwise of House Amaris' claims, they're moot now. There are quite a number of opportunities for those with the ambition to seek them out. But of course, there are always many ambitious men and women, and now we are competing against the favourites of the pirate queen."

"Make no mistake, Silvio, her Oberon Confederation is necessary, unless we suddenly declare ourselves part of the Star League. Which does not appear to be particularly wise given their current position," pointed out Jervis coldly. "Fortunately the Queen has an heir, and a husband who is likely to be able to hold them together in her absence. Just as long as her demise is not seen as the work of anyone within the Outer Reaches."

The colonel nodded. "You know what I want in return."

"I have been considering an expedition into what used to be Finmark Province. No doubt they will think more favourably of us now that they face annexation by the Marians. I can't think of anyone better than yourself to handle the operation, Silvio."

"That's acceptable." Cana rose to stand. "I don't suppose that the details are of interest to you."

The consul matched him. "You are correct." He bowed. Little people enjoyed receiving token gestures of respect. The two walked to the door and Jervis held the door for Jonathon. Another little gesture to bind the boy to him and he wished to speak to his secretaries anyway.

"Is there any new business?" Jervis asked his senior secretary. There were three women in the room – Olive Orbison, the sixty-something who'd been part of his staff for the last twenty years and two younger women who had been picked as much for their looks as for their ability to handle paperwork. Not more so – both were competent but they also provided what Jervis felt was a desirable image for himself.

Olive shook her head. "No appointments sir, just the paperwork I updated for you at lunchtime."

"Alright. I'm almost done with that." Jervis glanced at the two under-secretaries. "I believe there will be a security sweep this afternoon. Give me a heads up ten minutes before that's due please. Miss Stavros, if you would assist me now."

The young ethnic greek nodded and closed up her terminal before walking past Jervis into the office as he held the door for her in a gentlemanly fashion.

Above the doorway an exquisitely concealed recording device did its work. Security sweeps had missed it before. They would miss it again.

The security of the Consul's palace had been updated extensively over the last year based on input from the Oberon Confederation's Rangers. Nobody entirely trusted the Rangers, but no one entirely trusted House Amaris' existing security apparatus either and so the two had been jammed awkwardly together.

The Rangers had taught the former-Makos everything they needed to know about the height of surveillance and counter-surveillance as per the heights of twenty-eighth century technology. That wasn't quite the same as teaching them everything the Rangers knew about that same subject.

**Matam, Panpour**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**4 February 2578**

It wasn't much more than a generation since Panpour had been heart of an independent realm. The Treaty of Basantapur, admitting the United Hindu Collective into the Federated Suns had guaranteed them autonomy in gratitude for the support they had given to a much younger Alexander Davion. Now the First Prince stood beside the son of his old ally waiting for two future allies.

The landing of the dropships had been a cautious one – there was the suspicion on both sides that this could be some kind of trap. Only when an advance party had scoured the surroundings did the emissaries land.

But they had landed.

Now in a pavilion set inside a beautifully sculpted park, Alexander watched two black hover limousines – Deusenbergs, apparently _the_ name in luxury automobiles in the thirty-first century – slide up the hill, preceded by an honour guard of four BattleMechs. The lance was divided by paint scheme: two in the colours of the Davion Guards and two marked as the Taurian Guards. Symbolically, the pairs were split diagonally, two in each colour in front of each limousine.

Behind them, marching in parade formation, were soldiers in dress uniforms of the TCAF and AFFS. Both little columns were picture perfect in their drill. As they reached the plaza before the pavilion, the columns split apart to line three sides of the square in double ranks. The officers who had headed each column walked to the doors of the limousines and opened them for those inside.

Alexander frowned at the officer gallantly offering Rachel Calderon-Davion a hand out of the low-slung black limousine. "Is it just me or does that look a lot like Troy Neville?"

Duke Vemuri Ramesh Reddy leant forwards slightly and squinted. "It's... not just you, your highness. I think he's caught a bit of sun."

"That may not be all he's caught."

Jack Calderon, having exited his own limousine, joined his distant cousin in walking up the few steps dividing plaza from pavilion. They paused just short of entering and Alexander saw the Protector's eyes flick across him.

"General Neville," the Calderon said. "You go first."

Apologetically, the AFFS general stepped around the pair and entered the pavilion's shade. He was not only tanned but weatherbeaten – wherever he'd been it had left him outside a great deal of the time.

"Sir," Neville said, offering a salute to the First Prince. "General Neville reporting with a detail of fourteen thousand men under arms and ready for service."

"Fourteen thousand?" Ramesh exclaimed. "Under arms."

"Sir." Neville turned to the Duke and saluted again. "Yes sir. The whole AFFS Auxiliary Corps is here. We don't have all our original equipment – I gather much had been disposed off in one way or another, but Duchess Calderon-Davion has been quite generous about making good the losses."

"Has she now?" The general found himself speared by his First Prince's eyes. "Keep yourself handy. I'll want to hear all about this." He gestured for Neville to make way for the two heads of state waiting patiently behind him. "Protector, Arch-Duchess. Welcome to the Federated Suns."

Jack nodded acknowledgement but Rachel took a half-step forward and offered Alexander her hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, great-grandfather."

"I'm glad to hear it." The First Prince paused. "I've seen a certain poster, great-granddaughter. Since we're on family terms now, I hope there aren't any newer versions."

Rachel shook her head, sending her red hair flicking back and forth. "Not since I was granted my first landhold on Filtvet," she promised. "Shall we get down to business? Jack's on his best behaviour but who knows how long that will last."

"I am standing right here, you know." Jack sounded disgruntled about that fact. He moved to look at the documents laid out on the table in the pavilion. There were three identical copies and he read each in turn, ensuring that they correctly laid out the terms of what had been negotiated by proxy over the last few weeks.

Stripped of the legal verbiage, the treaty commited the Federated Suns, Filtvet Commonwealth and Taurian Concordat to accept their respective borders as they existed as of New Years Day 2578 and commited each to the defense of the other two against aggression, individually or collectively, by the Star League and its Member States.

Figuratively speaking it could well prove a death blow to the Star League, which was at a stroke losing more than a fifth of its volume, just over a seventh of its income and access to scores of regiments and warships.

Jack signed each in turn and then offered the pen to Alexander, who did likewise.

Rachel paused for a moment before following suite. She'd have been willing to risk reunification with the Federated Suns but Alexander and Jack had persuaded her not to complicate matters at that point.

"So, when do you want me to start clearing the Star League occupiers off your worlds?" Jack asked rhetorically while Duke Ramesh signed as a witness. Taurian Task Forces would be crossing the border as soon as they had word of the treaty being signed, which would of course be long before the regiments on those worlds learned of it. Assuming that anyone was _gauche_ enough to share the news in the first place after the First Prince had quietly explained to the media that he felt that no news was good news and he considerately wanted his SLDF guests to have nothing but good news.

The media of the Federated Suns was not under state control but it was generally understood that their freedoms did not include undermining the government. It was a restriction House Davion used sparingly and almost always to good effect.

"You can get started as soon as you like," Alexander said calmly. There were three SLDF Corps – almost a hundred regiments – stationed along the Federated Suns border with the Taurian Concardat. Neutralising them was critical to ensuring a clean break from the Star League and would also soak up a good deal of the Taurian enthusiasm for the war.

Some enthusiasm was good of course, but not all the atrocities of the historical wars of reunification had been commited by the Star League.

Letting the Taurians handle it – and then not so subtly position their forces along the border with Alistair Liao's Capellan Confederation – would spare the AFFS the casualties they might take dislodging Wexworth's forces and let Alexander redeploy them to cover his borders with the rest of the Star League.

He'd need to have most of his forces available for that, and Neville's soldiers...

"General," he said, turning back towards Neville. "I don't believe that that is the unit patch of the Syrtis Fusiliers."

Neville looked even more uneasy. "No sir. We burnt our colours rather than letting them be taken and didn't feel it would be right to reconstitute without them."

Alexander nodded encouragingly, mentally wondering how long it would take the general to get to the point of answering the implied question.

"We did get the chance to read up on some history. Apparently after the Star League fell apart, many of the SLDF soldiers who joined the AFFS were formed into a corps of regiments called the Crucis Lancers. And since quite a number of SLDF soldiers did join us in coming back to the Federated Suns it seemed the name was appropriate."

Alexander frowned. "There were only fourteen thousand soldiers in your Corps, General Neville. If you've made up numbers using SLDF recruits then where did you lose personnel?"

The expression on Neville's face was pained. "It's not so much losing them as that they have other pressing duties, sir." He saw Alexander's expression and hastened: "Child care, sir. The Duchess provided well for us as prisoners but she seems to have overlooked the need for contraceptives in camps that weren't gender segregated."

Rachel tried to look innocent. Alexander, a father and a grandfather, didn't believe her for a second.

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**9 February 2578**

The weather was atypically poor during the ceremonial opening of the Senate. It was only the second time that they had ever gathered formally so there were no traditions as such but that wasn't going to prevent people from trying to establish them.

Thus each Consul arrived in a formal fashion with their limousines escorted by an honour guard of two battlemechs and several cars carrying security and aides (which was particularly pointless for Jervis Siever who'd been living in the same building for months). A number of the senate had the privilege of standing under the cover of the palace's portico to welcome the Consuls, while crowds had been allowed to access the gardens so several thousand people were watching from under umbrellas, hats or in some cases just wet hair.

There was a muted cheer as Jervis left his own car and walked up the steps to the palace, trailed by his entourage. The Consul raised one hand in salutation to the crowd and then walked up the stairs towards the doors. As he reached the portico Jervis stepped to one side and gestured for the aides to enter it's shelter from the weather while he himself paused to greet Hakim Wbika, who stood amongst his fellow senators.

"Terrible weather," Jervis murmered. "Dare I hope we can find a few moments to talk out the naval expenditure for the next fiscal year? I don't want to leave our fleet short-changed when it's our most vital tool against the Star league."

The senator eyed him for a moment before answering: "I'd be more than happy to make time for you, Consul."

"Splendid. I'm sure that Charlotte will have her own thoughts, so it might be three of us."

Once again the former admiral waited a fraction before answering. It struck Jervis as strange – the man was hardly known for being indecisive. "Of course. I look forward to it."

The car carrying Queen Charlotte Grimm, Consul of the Oberon Confederation drew up and the crowds' cheers grew louder as they caught sight of the very visibly pregnant Charlotte.

Jervis smiled, forcing the smile to be a fond one rather than one of anticipation. "Everything seems to be going smoothly." And let the senator assume that he meant the choregraphy of the ceremonial opening of the Senate rather than other arrangements.

However, Charlotte walked up the steps without interruption. Blast it, Jervis would be happier if he knew for sure what Silvio Cana had in mind. This seemed like the most vulnerable moment – how could the man kills Queen Grimm inside the Consul's Palace? Had something gone wrong perhaps?

"A pleasure to see you, Jervis," Charlotte said with a beaming smile. "You've very much been on my mind of late."

"Flattering as that is for a man my age to hear, your highness, I haven't forgotten how roughly your husband handled the last man to speak imprudently of you. I shudder to think what he might do if he felt I was going to cross the boundaries of good manners."

Charlotte nodded. "Well I must say that poor Colonel Cana does seem to be on people's minds, Jervis. A sad end for a gallant soldier."

"I... beg your pardon?" His mind raced. What had happened? "You don't mean that he's suffered a misfortune?"

"I'm afraid that I do." She shook her head. "A car accident, it seems. Just this morning – you hadn't heard?"

Jervis shook his head. "I truly had not. How terribly sad." The Consul shook his head to clear it of concerns. "But surely we should talk inside, out of the rain."

"How very wise." Charlotte turned and curtseyed to the crowd, eliciting a roar of approval, before entering the door which Hakim Wbika was politely holding for her, having waved off a servant whose main task that was.

Her fellow consul followed her. A car accident! Of all the terrible luck... or was it luck? Had one of Charlotte's partisans perhaps found out the truth and then murdered Cana to prevent him from carrying out the assassination. In that case, Charlotte might already be aware of Jervis' involvement and be planning her own measures to rid herself of him.

A chill went down Jervis Siever's spine at the thought.

**FSS **_**Tancredi**_**, Pirate Point**

**Hortense, Federated Suns**

**15 February 2578**

A burst of radiation heralded the return of the _Tancredi_ to the Federated Suns.

Pitcairn looked around the command deck. "Are we on fire?"

It was a pertinent question. The jump from Ebro had had an exciting aftermath when the energy charge from the jump set three compartments on fire, requiring them to be quickly vented. Fortunately no one had been inside the compartments, but given their proximity to the remaining hydrogen fuels, it had been a touch worrying.

Elliott glanced around. "I don't believe that we are. Which is probably good – we're a bit short of hydrogen as it is. Communications, get in touch with the local naval station. I believe Colonel Pitcairn needs to contact his insurance company to make a claim for our repair bill." She looked over at Pitcairn slyly. "I don't think you're going to be getting your deposit back."

"There goes my no claims bonus," he agreed. "Do you think I'll be able to get through their automated telephone system before we run out of fuel?"

There was a ripple of laughter – more out of relief at their escape than due to any humour at the statement. And then the crew went back to moving the _Tancredi_ out of the pirate point. It wouldn't do to still be occupying the point when someone else jumped into it. That was notoriously messy. And usually fatal for someone.

"We're receiving a challenge from the surface, sir," reported the communications officer. "Standard codes. The duty officers are going to have to wake up their commanders."

"Naturally we would arrive in the local night cycle," Pitcairn sighed. "I suppose we can wait an hour or two for them to get out of bed with their mistresses, make excuses to their wives and get to a radio."

"They might be a little more alert along a hostile border."

Pitcairn shrugged, a wordless concession to Commodore Elliot that she had a point. "I guess we'll..."

"Jump signatures!"

Heads turned sharply towards the bridge officer who had all but squeaked in reporting that.

"_Many_ jump signatures," the young officer expanded the report, apparently unaware of how his voice had squeaked with the first words.

The crew were already at battlestations and the Commodore was about to order manuvering power but remembered that they didn't have the fuel for that. "Helm, get us turned around to screen the damaged flank," she ordered instead. Hopefully this was simply a FSN deployment along the border.

Hopes of that was dashed almost immediately: "There are nineteen warships, ma'am. We have ID on a battleship – same class as we saw at McRae. Electronic signature is almost indentical – might even be the same ship."

Under other circumstances Elliott might have twitted Pitcairn about the ship following him, but there were more obvious concerns. "Non-essential personnel to the escape pods," she ordered. There was no way to avoid action at this range, particularly with only enough fuel for minimal position adjustments.

"Commodore..."

Elliott turned towards Pitcairn. "Under these circumstances, Colonel, you and your mechwarriors are non-essential. Our remaining aerospace wing will try to get you to the surface, hopefully you can hold out there until relief arrives."

Their eyes met for a long moment and then Elias Pitcairn drew himself up and offered a parade-ground salute. "Commodore."

Kate Elliot returned the salute. "Colonel."

"Ma'am, a transmission from the battleship."

"Let me guess, Admiral Jaeger aboard the FCS _Pitcairn_ is demanding our immediate surrender?"

The technican frowned and tapped his headphones. "Uh, not quite captain." He adjusted a control and a female voice spilled over the command deck's speakers.

"FSS _Tancredi_, this is Admiral Jaeger aboard the FCS Pitcairn. Quite a coincidence to meet you here after our last little encounter."

Elliott frowned. It didn't sound to her that the voice was gloating: not that she'd have denied that the other woman had a right to feel some satisfaction after the _Tancredi_ had slipped past her at McRae.

"My congratulations," Jaeger continued, "On a race well won, and on your exemplary performance at McRae. I look forward to meeting you under more congenial circumstances."

Pitcairn blinked. "More congenial circumstances."

Unaware of the Colonel's words, the Filtvet admiral spoke on, without hesitation. "I presume that you have learned from your colleagues on planetside of the new circumstances. In the spirit of our leaders' agreement, please advise if there is any assistance we can provide in light of your evident damage. We have a yardship within easy range of Hortense, that I am sure could arrive here faster than any equivalent vessel in the Federated Suns Navy."

Elliott glanced at the communications officer. "Send an acknowledgement of the message, lieutenant. And then see if you can find out from those idiots on Hortense what the devil's been going on. If none of the officers know, ask a Sergeant Major – they're generally more aware in my experience."

**Geneva, Europe**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**28 February 2578**

The Director-General's private office was of course at the centre of a web of electronic communications. However, when it was in 'privacy mode' as it was colloquially known, sophisticated security measures made it practically impossible to communicate even the simplest message to or from the chamber.

In theory, of course, Shandra Noruff-Cameron could have simply had one of the many guards call on her husband to remind him that he was late. In practise she had delegated the task to their son Nicholas, who had decided that the office of the Director-General might provide a suitable refuge from the many eligible daughters of the Terran Hegemony's nobility.

Nodding to the security detail, Nicholas touched the intercom button by the door. "Father, it's Nicholas."

There was no reply.

"He sounded pretty grim, sir," one of the SLDF soldiers on guard advised. "Might be best to leave him to it."

"Unfortunately a higher authority demands his presence."

"A higher authority?"

There was a wealth of meaning in Nicholas's voice as he explained: "Mother."

"Ah." The sergeant nodded. "A fearsome authority indeed."

Nicholas thumbed the button again. "Father, look at the time."

For another moment there was silence and then the door slid open soundlessly, offering Nicholas admission to the chamber beyond. He accepted the invitation, straightening the uniform that marked him as a final year student at the Royal Sandhurst Military Academy.

As the young Cameron heir crossed the threshold of the room he passed a zone of white noise and heard Alexander Davion's voice: "..a firm _au revoir_." A recording, presumably, since as far as Nicholas knew the First Prince of the Federated Suns was on New Avalon, or at least somewhere in his vast realm.

There was a click as recording ended and Nicholas saw his father's chair was facing away from the door, towards the large view screen that made up most of one wall. The screen flickered and then began to replay the same message, having been set to loop the recording apparently.

Alexander Davion sat upon his throne in the gloriously gaudy red-trimmed gold of Mount Davion's Royal Palace. He was flanked upon the subsidiary thrones by Princess Veronique and Vincent Davion, the Prince Imperial, sat to his left. The shot focused in upon Alexander. An official message then, with the First Prince speaking, quite literally, from the throne.

"You're late," he admonished his father.

The Director-General of the Terran Hegemony and First Lord of the Star League waved Nicholas to silence. "You should watch this. Thousands of others will be doing so all too soon."

On the view screen Alexander looked directly into the camera. "I am speaking now, not only to the Lords of the Star League but also to billions who have elected to follow their leaders into the Star League."

"For somewhat more than ten years I have been one of those Lords and the Federated Suns has been among the members of the Star League. We have sought peace and prosperity. What has resulted has been war, one that I must accept no small share of responsibility for, and economic turmoil – not helped by the deliberate manipulations of the other member-states. We have also seen the Star League conspire to overthrow one of its Lords, a betrayal of trust that cannot be ignored."

"In the winter of 2676 we all received a telling rebuke from our descendants, four and a half centuries into the future, who have cited the Star League as being at best a well-intentioned tyranny and at worst, a tool of Terran megalomania."

Alexander paused, which gave the stunned Nicholas a chance to grapple with the meaning of the speech. It wasn't... it couldn't be... the implication was unthinkable...

"I do not believe Ian Cameron to be a megalomaniac. I give him full credit for desiring an end to the conflicts of the last two centuries. Yet his solution, the Star League, would lead to wars of such savagery that the civilian deathtoll of any one of them would far exceed those of every military conflict since the early twenty-fourth century. I must therefore accept his solution, the Star League, as being tragically flawed."

"And I will not endorse a course of action we now know to be a failure."

"By my decree, the Federated Suns hereby renounces the New Avalon Accords of 2567 and the Star League Accords of 2571. We will seek peace with all our neighbours, whether of the Inner Sphere of the Periphery, and remain interested in international co-operation."

"This is not a farewell forever to the other member states, but pending significant reform of the League and its intentions, I must bid the Star League a firm _au revoir_."

Nicholas swallowed. Oh _shit_. "Dad..."

His father nodded slightly and the recording started over.

"I am speaking now, not only -"

"Dammit, dad!" Nicholas found the controls on the desk and shut the screen down. Then he looked again at his father. Ian Cameron looked as if simply watching the message had aged him a year. And god knows how many times he'd watched it over. He's in shock, the younger Cameron realised.

"I don't know what to do," Ian admitted.

"Dad..." Nicholas had to admit he was half-stunned himself. Even in his degree studies – he was working towards a bachelor's degree in interstellar relations – had never discussed a secession from the Star League. Nor did the Accords make any provision for it. Instead he focused on the immediate. "You're in shock. You can't decide anything right now." He took his father by the arm and pulled him up. "Get some sleep – I'll let mother know and we can deal with this in the morning."

Ian nodded, still looking older than his sixty years. "How could he do this?" he asked almost plainitively.

"It doesn't matter." Nicholas drew on his his training. "What matters is that he has it. And tomorrow we're going to figure out how to fix it."

The show of confidence seemed to work, although Nicholas wasn't sure how much of his words had sunk in. His father was only sixty-three, but he was already older than all but three of his predecessors as Director-General and next year would surpass James McKenna to become the third-oldest reigning Director-General.

I'm not ready to be Director-General, much less First Star Lord, Nicholas thought. God help us all if I have to be.

"Come on dad, I'll tell mother you're not going to make it to the reception."


	11. Book Three, Chapter Two

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**2 March 2578**

Forty-eight hours and two nights sleep – one in Geneva and the other aboard the luxury airliner that had carried him halfway around the planet - had done much to restore Ian Cameron's energy, if not his spirits.

"How bad it is?" he asked.

General Lee frowned. "Not good. We have three Corps along the border and with Davion changing sides, they're trapped. I Corps might manage to get across the border into the Capellan Confederation but III and IV Corps have little or no chance of managing it unless the First Prince allows them to leave."

"You're talking about effectively a third of the Star League Army being lost, not to mention the naval losses. The Taurians will no doubt take the opportunity to cross the border and smash them flat."

Lee nodded grimly. "Unless some sort of diplomatic miracle is worked out, the entire Taurian front is gone. In the short term that doesn't impact us very much."

Shandra Noruff-Cameron made an inquisitive "oh?" sound and the General looked at his political patron. "With regard to the Periphery, they were mostly stationed there to stall Taurian aggression. There was no real expectation they would do anything but buy time in the event of a Taurian offensive. Given a year or two, naval support for them could have changed that, but that isn't the case now. In the longer term, of course, this is worse than last spring."

"How bad?" It was Nicholas' first time at being involved in a conference at this level but unless he was _very_ unlucky, it would not be the last.

His mother answered. "If we don't turn this around fast, the entire SLDF is going to be essentially ruined. The loss of manpower and equipment will take years to replace but the damage to morale will be even worse."

"What do we have left?"

"Right now we have IX Corps on the Rim Worlds front, II and VI Crops on the Outworlds front and V and VIII Corps facing the Canopians. There are also Auxiliary Corps from the Lyrans and Draconians, with new Corps forming from the FWLM and CCAF. Just to give you a contrast, we're reasonably sure that the Taurians alone can equal the regular SLDF Corps once we deduct the three already on their border."

Ian nodded. "We can't win the war on the ground. That's been increasingly clear. So we need a victory and we can only really achieve it in space. What do we have that we can use to obtain a victory? If possible something that could be used to recover the three Corps that we're expecting to be overrun."

"Well... Half our reconditioned ships are on their way towards the Taurian front – fortunately they've barely crossed into the Federated Suns so we can get word to them before they wind up trapped. They don't have the supplies for an extended operation though. In fact," Lee looked uncomfortable, "I recommend holding them back to defend the Hegemony. I think we have to assume that Prince Davion's neutrality won't extend to blocking his 'cousin' from sending her troops to our border with him."

Nicholas nodded. "What about the other half?"

"Halfway to the Canopian front," Lee told him after a questioning look at Ian. "We're probably going to need to redirect them to the Capellan border with the Federated Suns now."

"I suppose. But really those two forces are the only ones that we can use right now, right?

His elders exchanged looks. "You have a point," admitted Ian.

Shandra looked thoughtful. "I think we're going to have to throw out our strategic doctrine – the Periphery obviously aren't operating by it – and look at other options. What we really need is a victory like New Samarkand – hitting one of their capital worlds."

"Those are going to be tough targets. Anything we send may not come back."

"At this stage I don't think we have any safe options," she told Lee. "Hitting a capital would go a long way towards rebuilding morale – we'd be striking back – and it would force them to watch their rear areas far more than they are already. What are our options?"

"Well there are... let's call it eight hostile states at this time. I think we can scratch Tortuga, the Marians and the Oberon Confederation off the list – we just don't have the navigational data to reach them." Lee frowned. "We don't have that problem with Filtvet but to be honest it's an unreachable distance now that we can't stage from the Federated Suns. So we have a choice of Alpheratz, New Avalon, Taurus and Canopus."

Ian nodded. "I don't think that Taurus is feasible, from the naval figures that we've seen they could very well have the Hyades fortified with more ships than we can send after them."

Pulling open a terminal, Lee did some calculations. "We can use the ships heading for the Canopus front for an attack there or pull them over to strike at New Avalon, but it would be faster to use the ships we were sending to Taurus to head for New Avalon or of course Alpheratz."

"I don't like the idea of using the second force," the Drector-General observed. "And in any event, for all the trouble that they've caused, striking at the Outworlds capital wouldn't change anything. They're being propped up by the Taurians already. Let's focus on New Avalon and Canopus using the ships currently in the Free Worlds League."

"In some ways they're the most vulnerable targets," Shandra mused. "We know that Alexander has centralised power into his own hands, governing the Federated Suns from New Avalon alone. Losing New Avalon wouldn't break his resolve but it would seriously destabilise the Federated Suns, leaving them as much less of a problem for a year or two."

"And Canopus?" asked Lee curiously. He'd been more interested in the military capabilities of the periphery than their politics.

"The Magistracy and Canopus IV are virtually synonymous. By reports almost twenty percent of their entire population and presumably a comparable degree of their industry and government are on that one planet. I wouldn't go so far as to say that whoever holds Canopus holds the Magistracy – if nothing else, Andurien would provide a viable alternative capital – but even its temporary loss must cause enormous political and economic damage."

Nicholas nodded. "There's the other aspect, mother. As you might imagine, the Professors at Sandhurst had me look at the ruling Houses of our new neighbours, to the extent we have information on them. The Magestrix is the only adult member of House Centrella. If she dies – and given her previous history it's far from impossible that she'll fight in the defence of Canopus personally – then the Magistracy will be faced with a crisis: either find a regent for her daughter or elect a Magestrix from outside House Centrella. In either case, it's not beyond belief that they'd be willing to accept some sort of deal in order to remove our forces from Canopus."

"Let's not get too optimistic," warned Ian. "Most likely Protector Calderon would send forces to relieve Canopus. But since that means that the forces in use aren't fighting us, it buys us more time. I have to admit that Canopus sounds just as appealing a target as New Avalon. Still, in either case, we will lose may, if not all, of the ships and soldiers that we send. That will hurt morale even if we win. In that case..."

"If the next battle is is a victory then the Star League still has a chance of survival. If it is a defeat then I suspect Ian Marik will seek a private peace," Shandra observed bleakly.

Nicholas swallowed. Such a move would leave Alistair Liao isolated, both geographically and politically. It was highly probably that Ursula Liao would be able to contest his rule, probably with support from the Periphery and the Federated Suns.

It was likely that the Lyran Commonwealth and Draconis Combine would remain loyal – although Hehiro Kurita might well demand concessions for that loyalty. That would be the end of the Star League however. What would remain would not be his father's dream, it would simply be a supra-national alliance, part of a polarised humanity.

Ian's thoughts must have been following the same track. "Better in that case that the Star League be dissolved."

That drew shock from Shandra and General Lee but Nicholas nodded. "It would make the Reunification War from the history the Periphery told us look like a pushing match."

"Yes." Ian sighed. "So we must send a large part of what remains of our forces out to seize one of these two worlds. We know of New Avalon's defences, but Canopus IV..."

"Perhaps ten to twenty warships. A considerable number of orbital stations. It is one of, if not the, principal shipyards that the House Centrella controls." General Lee nodded. "More formidable than New Avalon, but it's likely that an attack could yield a formidable amount of data on their advanced technology."

"Good point there. Not to mention..." Shandra started searching through documents on her terminal. "Where was it... ah yes. There's an economic analysis derived from reports made by the Free Worlds' ambassador to Canopus in the thirty-first centry. The key point is that while the Canopians have a lower population than the Taurians, their economy is considerably more flush and heavily invested in international trade – not just for their anti-agathic treatments but any number of other biological fields. If their economy takes a downturn then the ripples will shake all the others. The Federated Suns isn't closely tied into that network and losing New Avalon wouldn't have the same degree of effect."

"Worse, Alexander might simply decide to rebuild his government on Filtvet. That wouldn't be well-received on New Avalon, but it would irrevocably tie his interests to the Periphery. Right now..." Ian drummed his fingers against a terminal. "Matters are more fluid. Alexander has stated that he wants peace with his neighbours. I'll offer him that: a chance to settle his differences with the Star League and perhaps even negotiate the reforms he claims might make it palatable – but on the condition he allows the peaceful departure of I, III and IV Corps from the Federated Suns."

"Meanwhile we'll have General Kincaid plan a strike on Canopus IV using the fleet we're already moving towards her and whatever she thinks best out of V and VIII Corps. How long do you think it will take to organise her forces and then reach Canopus?"

General Lee made some quick mental calculations. "Perhaps three months."

The First Star Lord reached over and took his wife's hand. "Then tell her that what she does this summer will decide the fate of the Star League."

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**14 March 2578**

The trial of Gervais Stavros for the murder of Jervis Siever would be an open-and-shut case. The father of the Consul's 'under-secretary' had after all been found standing over his victim's body and stated gladly that he had done the deed and was proud of it.

The motive was obvious: a father pushed avenging his daughter's suicide when her lover refused to take responsibility for her pregnancy. The defense would have an uphill battle and the prosecutor was being well-paid not to mention that Gervais was terminally ill and that his daughter, actually pregnant by a Ranger, was beginning a new life in the Oberon Confederation.

Justice, in the view of Charlotte Grimm, was being done. There was no use in letting laws get in the way of that.

"I hope that you will all join me in accepting Hakim Wbika as the new Consul for the Rim Worlds in place of the late Jervis Siever," she concluded her speech to the senate.

The applause wasn't rapturous, although given that she was at least nominating another Consul rather than simply declaring herself as First Consul she at least got some. There were, after all, a distinct lack of others holding executive authority since the election of a new Consul for the Rift Republic had been stalled since the Senate had assembled.

Wbika rose to his feet. "With the greatest of respect to her majesty, I must decline the nomination as I feel that our current governmental structures have failed to meet the demands of administration. It is perfectly understandable that we might experience a false start, but it is clear that the consulate structure is not adequate. The Outer Reaches deserve better from us."

A senator from Treeline stood. "What do you suggest then? Star League soldiers are rampaging across my homeworld, we cannot afford dissension while we stand on the brink of conquest by the Lyrans."

"I'm not speaking of dissension, I speak of unity!" The former admiral raised his fist towards the sky. "We cannot afford the division of the Outer Reaches into three separate Republics. Instead we should stand together as one. I propose that the powers of the consuls be returned to the Senate and that we sit in permanent session."

Charlotte could barely keep from swearing. She'd offered Wbika Siever's place as Consul to co-opt him but instead he was attacking her power base: if power reverted entirely to the senate then it would remove her own power as Queen. She would have to either relinish her authority or break away from the Republic, a dangerous move when so many of her forces were engaged against the Lyrans and far from home.

Fortunately her own senators would vote where she led them. That was something. "That's a radical proposal, Senator but not one entirely without merit. Nonetheless, an executive role is required for administrative purposes. May I suggest that the Senate appoint Ministers to handle key roles on an interim basis while modifications to our Constitution are discussed." She smiled towards Wbika. "I would defer to Senator Wbika's military expertise as making him the natural choice as Minister of Defence, and perhaps I might be able to serve as Minister of Foreign Affairs."

This time there was an upswelling of applause.

"If that is the wish of the Senate, then I am of course ready to serve," Wbika agreed readily.

Charlotte calculated carefully. She'd pulled Wbika out of active participation in the coming debates over restructuring the government but no doubt he had proxies, just as she did. And it would be too suspicious to eliminate a Minister of Defence so soon after a Strategos had been vanished.

What she needed was a diplomatic triumph to overshadow Wbika's military role. Hmm. Perhaps Marcus O'Reilly would be open to reason...

**The Triad, Tharkad City**

**Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth**

**19 March 2578**

"Could you put this in simple terms for me?"

Selwin Kelswa looked over at the document in Kevin Steiner-Dinesen's hand. "That would be the Civil Service's estimates for the budget."

"The summary," agreed the young Archon. "I think I understand it but..."

The duke took the document and looked it over. "Oh yes. I'm not sure how serious that they are about that."

"I may not be a financial expert, but I could balance my allowance." Kevin looked at the paper. "Even I know that the new estimations for financing the war are going to be a pain to afford."

"Yes. I think that we can afford them. The bureaucrats are probably making deductions for what they expect to drop into their pockets as tax is collected. Fire half a dozen and the rest will calculate more honestly."

"I was rather hoping to reduce the tax burden." Kevin produced two more documents. "The economy may be stabilised but it's hard to call the Commonwealth prosperous, even after mother's reforms. If we can't inject some more cash then the alternative would be to take less out."

Kelswa gave him a flat look. "Might be possible. How much."

The Archon gave him a number. The Duke's eyebrow arched. "Really."

"Really."

"Then start thinking about what to cut."

"Yes." He looked his years all of a sudden. "Father suggested that if I let it leak that I was considering cutting contributions to the Star League and see if the First Star Lord could be persuaded to put some more of the SLDF's budget into our yards and aerospace fighters. He's short the Federated Suns now – Cameron's got to be sensitive about the prospect of losing another of us."

"That same sensitivity could be pushed too far."

Kevin nodded. "I don't think threatening him will be all that productive. I was thinking that it might be best to just have Duke Aldo simply ask for the investments and point out we need something to get our economy out of the gutter."

"It's a thought." Kelswa stared at Kevin. "We are after all still on same side."

"You know somehow that voice makes me wonder how sincere you're being."

"Yes."

Kevin blinked. "I... see... Another test?"

The duke went back to his own paperwork. "No. Let me know what you decide."

"Except it isn't my decision right now. It's up to you and Duke Lestrade and Great-Uncle Elric."

"Only if you want it to be." Kelswa signed the document in front of him and moved to the next. "Would you rather abdicate your position?"

The teenager took a deep breath. "My apologies. That was petulant."

"Archon, I think we've already seen just how far the Director-General is willing to go in order that the Star League remains united. I don't imagine that he will take a direct hand but that doesn't mean that he'll raise a finger to help you if one of your relatives decides that they should be the next Robert Steiner. What he does will depend upon what he thinks will maintain his support from the Commonwealth."

"Then..." Kevin shook his head. "I think he'd not want to encourage instability then. So if this is presented as a chance to forestall problem..."

The duke nodded. "That could be a better way to present it. And when it comes to... soft-soaping a matter such as this, we have the right man in the right place. Aldo Lestrade's eloquence is famous."

Relieved, Kevin nodded. "Thank you for the advice your Grace. I'll write to Aldo."

"There is no need." Duke Kelswa smiled slightly. The unfamiliar expression looked strange on his face. "I have already done so."

"I'll leave it in your hands then," Kevin answered and then turned away. I need to speak to father, he thought, afraid that his concern might show on his face. Is this the two of them simply acting responsibly as my regents or... or are they undermining me?

**Danderson City, Persistance**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**7 April 2577**

Henry Gram could not help but compare Charlotte Grimm-Davion to the late Archon.

She was younger of course – by more than a decade was his guess – and had more the prettiness of youth than the classic Steiner beauty of Viola Steiner-Dinesen. There was also an apparent softness – the Archon's demeanor had always been cool and perhaps even ascetic while this was clearly a woman with both respect and interest in the luxuries of her position – silks and furs gave both her garb and her temporary throne a barbaric splendour.

"Welcome, your highness, to the Lyran city of Danderson." Gram bowed his head, knowing that his uniform and mature dignitas would display the difference between his own civilisation and what passed for it in these 'Outer Reaches' as they called it. Harkening back to the liberation of colonies from the Terran Alliance on the early twenty-third century no doubt.

"I suppose it would not be diplomatic to point how far you've made yourselves welcome," she replied wryly. "Your point is valid however: the battle here was won by the late Archon Steiner."

An adequate counter-point. Perhaps the Oberonian was more accomplished than she appeared. Gram had no similar victory to claim. "Perhaps in light of that victory you bring news that the former Rim Worlds Republic has come to its senses and is now willing to accept the benevolent guidance of the Star League."

Charlotte almost laughed. "The Star League might well be benevolent. Our histories are... mixed, shall we say... on that point. It would be hard to call it triumphant given their defeats at Estuan and New Samarkand, not to mention a dozen or so other skirmishes. And perhaps you're not aware that there has been a defection?"

"A defection?"

"Ah. Word has reached my agents via Marian League. Communications there are still not what they once were but news has spread like lightning that Prince Davion – my own kinsman by marriage – has made a private peace with House Calderon."

The Margrave shook his head. "That seems rather an incredible statement, your highness. Prince Davion..."

"Ah, the news will no doubt reach you through official channels sooner or later." And when it did, it would underscore Charlotte's advantage in communications. The HPG network through the Outer Reaches remained a patchwork but a long leg down to Finmark, only recently restored to rule from Apollo, had at last been completed. "One suspects that Cameron's complicity in the overthrow of Ursula Liao has damaged his moral authority."

Gram knew that she saw the flare of ambition in his eyes. Still, for form's face he demurred. "Not all realms suffer from such internal dissension."

"Oh, I know. But the fact that you are here shows that despite the drastic measures of Viola Steiner, that the Lyran Commonwealth is not amongst such realms. Otherwise you would be on Tharkad, seeking to undermine the Dinesen's influence over the young Archon. You can hardly expect me to ignorant of the splits in the Commonwealth during this era and you are recorded as being at the heart of them."

"If you know me so well... then what do you expect of me?"

"You desire that the provinces of the old Protectorate of Donegal no longer be exploited by the wealthier worlds of Tamar and Skye. Alexander Davion, perhaps the greatest Prince to ever rule the Federated Suns, chose to break with the Star League rather than see his realm used as a battlefield between the Terrans and the Taurians. Surely you see that now that the Outer Reaches are no longer held back by the quisling House Amaris it is Donegal that will become the place of confrontation between myself and the carpetbaggers of House Lestrade and House Kelswa."

"You're flattering me," Gram accused , although without heat. "Implying that to follow Davion's example would place me on a level with him in prestige. Do you imagine that such a suggestion would spur me to treason?"

"I think that Viola's decision to imprison you was spur enough. The question is: does this give you an avenue through which you can pursue your ideals?"

Gram cleared his throat, knowing that the sound might as well have been a spoken answer. Maybe it did. "The idea of tearing Donegal away from the Commonwealth only to subject it to the rule of Oberon or Apollo is not my ideal."

"No more so does New Avalon bow to Taurus." Charlotte followed that truth with a lie: "I have no need to seek conquests in the Inner Sphere. The Outer Reaches can expand almost without limit towards the core of the galaxy. I would welcome an ally along my rimwards border."

"The Lyran Commonwealth is both rimward and spinward of the old borders of the Rim Worlds," probed the Margrave.

"Yes. But I speak for the Outer Reaches. The populations of the worlds spinwards of your borders have been quite hostile towards my government. Sadly it would seem that I could not consider them allies. Most regrettable."

In other words, the Outer Reaches would not cut off Donegal from expanding in that direction. Henry Gram smiled. "It would be very much preferable to shed no more blood in struggling for these worlds if our differences can be settled diplomatically."

"How very enlightened of you, Lord Gram. Would you like me to call for tea?"

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**10 April 2578**

Ian nodded in understanding of what Aldo Lestrade was saying to him. "I recognise your concerns, Duke Lestrade. Certainly no one wants the Lyran economy to suffer when our goal is prosperity for all."

"I appreciate your understanding, sir," the duke replied gracefully.

Ian glanced over at Shandra. "I was thinking that the new assault dropship programme could be expanded – we've put a lot of attention into our warships, but we need escorts as well."

His wife nodded. "Without offering offense to the Shipil Yards at Skye or the Commonwealth's own warships, dropships can simply be built in so many yards that this would provide benefit across several Lyran worlds rather than only one or two. "

"The logic makes sense." Aldo crossed his legs. "What is this new assault dropship?"

Ian typed a code into his terminal, unlocking the secure directory. "I believe that I have the last report here. Ah yes. Project Achilles. We'd begun it several years ago once it became clear that modified transports weren't going to be sufficient in combat roles. The original design was for a four and a half thousand ton dropship with engines capable of sustaining up to six gravities of acceleration."

"That's more than most aerospace fighters!"

"Quite. The goal was to have something that could intercept fighter formations before they closed in on SLDF convoys. However, we're revising it to provide additional missile defense. The Star League Navy will need hundreds of them. I trust that that will satisfy the needs of the Lyran economy?"

"It sounds splendid," agreed Lestrade. "I'm sure the Archon will be much relieved." He glanced at the schematics on display. "I hope that this doesn't pose a problem in terms of technological transfer?"

Shandra smiled. "Not at all. That law states that none of us can be forced to share our technology, but it does not say that we cannot provide it if we wish to. And the Terran Hegemony stands with its allies."

"As does the Lyran Commonwealth. We have had some optimistic reports from Margrave Gram on Trell One. Given recent history," Lestrade added in qualification. "I think it's reasonable to say that we may have control of Treeline by the summer. From there we can hit Toland, which is only one jump from Apollo."

Ian nodded. "That will be excellent news. Let us hope that the campaign is successful. Bringing the Outer Reaches into the Star League would be excellent news." He rubbed his hands. "We have some hope of harming the Canopian war effort as well. It's too early to say for sure but this may prove to be a good year after all."

"After last year, Lord Cameron, we could all do with a good year."

Outside the conference room, Lestrade was surprised to see the First Lord's heir waiting. "Your parents will be along shortly, Lieutenant Cameron," he told Nicholas, spotting the badges on the young man's uniform, marking him as an officer in the Star Guards' battalion stationed at the capital. While principle said that the next First Star Lord should be receiving actual experience on the frontlines, the current situation was so confused that Aldo could understand his being kept close for now.

"Thank you sir, but I was hoping to speak to you."

"You were?" Lestrade considered him for a moment. "Well as long as your Captain won't come looking for you."

Nicholas smiled slightly. "I do have a legitimate reason to be here, sir. I promise I'm not hiding from the never-ending duties heaped upon junior officers."

"It's character-forming and totally necessary," the Duke assured him. "After all, as a senior officer – much worse, as a noble ruler – you will find it only gets worse."

"How wonderful to have something to look forward to." Nicholas fell in stride with Lestrade as they walked out into the huge atrium of the building. An ornamental fish pond filled the centre of the room, lit by sunlight through the glass roof. "How is the Archon coping."

"As well as can be expected."

"That poorly?"

The duke shook his head. "The start of a reign is always difficult. Tragic as his mother's death was, starting with regents is allowing Kevin to come to terms with his new responsibilities one step at a time."

"I'm sure that that's a great comfort to him," agreed Nicholas thoughtfully. "I want to get off to a good start with Archon Steiner-Dinesen. After all, while I hope not to start my own reign as precipitously has he has, I do expect to be working with him for many years to come."

"Is that a hope for him, or a warning?"

The younger man did not flinch. "A little of both. History shows that any regency will be an unstable arrangement. The Star League is an alliance between not only the nations but also between the Great Houses that rule them."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, your father's policies suggest that he is not beyond partiality towards particular members of a Great House."

Nicholas nodded. "That is precisely my point: from his perspective -" Lestrade noticed how the young man distanced himself from the decision. "- he allowed an internal matter of House Liao to resolve itself because in the end the result was a stronger Capellan Confederation. However, the removal of a dynasty could do nothing but destabilise a realm and that would not, in his view, benefit the Star League."

"It seems a rather fine hair to split."

"I'm told that politics is like that occasionally."

"Every now and again," conceded Lestrade. "Fortunately I can assure you that matters on Tharkad are quite stable and I will be more than happy to relinquish the burdens of office to Kevin Steiner-Dinesen when the time comes. My own responsibilities take up a more than adequate amount of my time as things stand and Duke Kelswa and I are quite aware that we owe our positions to the gratitude of Robert Steiner for our support against Margaret Olsen. A conflict in which your Deborah Cameron was quite partial, I believe."

"I can assure you that the diplomats sent by grandmother to mediate were only doing their best to seek a peaceful resolution of their conflict. It was surely a coincidence that the ceasefire while they tried to avoid bloodshed bought the time necessary for Duke Reynold's reinforcements to reach Tamar and swing the balance of power in the favour of the rightful Archon," Nicholas promised him with a straight face.

"And perhaps it was. Because one lesson to remember in politics, Lieutenant, is that whatever turns out well from your actions is what you had in mind all along. The truth is a flexible thing in the courts of government."

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**11 April 2578**

"I'm sorry Ian but I really can't spare any more warships at this time," the Captain-General explained apologetically. "We lost almost every major warship we had last Christmas or at Tellman's Mistake. We have new ships under construction but I can't pull anything free until the end of the year."

"I'm not asking for your refitted ships." Ian Cameron spread his hands. "If you can even free up older corvettes and destroyers we'll refit them for you. But we're weakening the defense around Terra in order to concentrate an offensive force. And you know how important the yards here are to the war effort. The SLDF needs some sort of fleet here."

Marik shook his head. "We already handed over dozens of ships when the SLDF formed and we need to cover our own shipyards as well. We're on the frontlines, First Lord. Bracketed by the Canopians and the Marians. If I can't maintain the confidence of Parliament, then they might decide that Alexander had the right idea. I don't need to spell out how much of a disaster that would be for the Star League."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, Coordinator. It's a warning. I'm doing everything in my power to hold the Star League together." He sighed. "Look, I can pry some more regiments free from some of the provinces and transports for them. Would that help?"

Cameron sighed. "It would help in the operation to bring the Federated Suns back into the Star League, Ian. So yes. But we still need more ships from somewhere."

Hehiro Kurita leant back in his chair. "My own forces stand ready to assist in operations against the Federated Suns but any ships diverted to the protection of Terra would have to come from those currently on that front. The embarrassment of a foreign invader setting foot on New Samarkand cannot be repeated."

"How about moving some of the ships currently around Rasalhague?" suggested Aldo Lestrade. "Your new capital is more than five hundred light years from the war, surely you can strip a few squadrons from there."

"That Grand Duke will remember that Rasalhague is no great distance from the Rim Worlds Republic. A region that your own forces have yet to subdue. Under those circumstances, the security around my family must be the tightest."

Ian Cameron shook his head. "Gentlemen, please. We all agree that the Star League is important but I don't expect any of you to strip your capitals. That would ask too much. The invasion of the Federated Suns won't be possible for months, at best. Lord Hehiro, if you would be willing to station some of your ships over Terra this autumn and winter, it would be gratefully received. I know that deploying them before then would strain their logistics unacceptably."

"Do we have news on Canopus?" asked Alistair Liao curiously.

"General Kincaid should have departed by now," answered the First Star Lord. "The official story is that her Corps is embarking for St Ives to prepare to relieve General Wexford's remaining garrisons."

"The truth is that they are scheduled to rendezvous with Eighth Fleet in an unoccupied system near Dalton in the Oriente Federation. If all goes well they'll jump into the Canopian system early in June."

"And if all does not go well?"

"Then a little later. I have every confidence in Amalthia Kincaid."

"Let's hope so. Everything rides on this victory." Ian Marik shook his head. "This is unnatural, you know. War isn't supposed to be this way – a few key battles that everything else hangs upon and otherwise nothing but eerie silence! It's..." He looked for words and only found one that he had used already. "...unnatural."

"Constant battles would lead only to expensive attrition," Ian Cameron replied. "Losing a 'Mech or two in a skirmish is forgivable, but losing a destroyer or a cruiser that will take a year to replace? That's harder to excuse even with the sort of fleets that are forming up. Thus, warships are only being committed in numbers where they are expected to accomplish great things. Estuan. New Samarkand. _Canopus_."

"Warships are expensive." Ian Marik cupped his hands. "But they are also, from battles so far, quite fragile under certain circumstances. Certain of my officers are suggesting that a defensive fleet might be more effective if it had more... expendable assets."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"How long do you think it would take to convert a freight dropship to carry... oh, three or four naval missile launchers?"

"Converted merchantmen wouldn't last more than a few minutes under the guns of a warship!"

"But a hundred dropships could launch quite a few missiles in those minutes. How many nuclear missiles does it take to destroy a warship?"

"Nuclear warheads are expensive..."

"Far cheaper than warship crews and hulls," pointed out Hehiro.

Alistair Liao leant forwards. "I like this idea. Let the Taurians have a taste of their own medicine."

The Duke of Skye said nothing, his eyes calculating.

"I'll talk to the naval yards," Ian Cameron said thoughtfully.

**Avalon City, New Avalon**

**Crucis March, Federated Suns**

**15 April 2578**

"I'm impressed by your report."

Alexander stared out of the window of the briefing room, as he had through the entire presentation by Pitcairn. It was Vincent Davion who sat at the desk and delivered the response:

"I realise that you were put in a difficult position, operating behind the borders of the Periphery March while we negotiated peace but your report confirms to us that they have a degree of military strength that the Star League could not have subdued. You're to be congratulated simply for having survived such a dangerous mission."

"Thank you sir." Pitcairn answered after a moment. "I understand that the Second Guards have been deployed to the border with the Capellan Confederation. May I have permission to rejoin them?"

Vincent shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Colonel."

So I'm a scapegoat for the mission, sacrificed to appease the Arch-Duchess of Filtvet. Pitcairn wasn't entirely surprised by the notion but however much he'd thought himself prepared, it still dug deep into him.

"Colonel..." Was Alexander's voice thinner than Pitcairn remembered from all those months ago. "I cannot apologise enough for having sent you on this mission. I only hope that your new assignment makes up for it in some way."

"My... new assignment, sir?"

"Yes. Vincent..."

"Among the information we've received from our future kinswoman is that by the thirty-first century the Davion Guards included not only the five regiments of our own era but also three specialised regiments: the Light, Heavy and Assault Guards regiments. Since we are no longer constrained by the arms limitation treaties of the Star League, it has been decided to add them to the Brigade of Guards' roster."

"It has? No offense, sir, but I'd have thought that building up the FSN would take priority. I mean – my mechwarriors and I didn't even manage to reach the surface."

"You're right and Commodore Elliott will be playing a major role in that. However it will take years to restructure the AFFS towards that and ground forces will still play an important role in our defence." The Prince Imperial smiled smugly. "And the expense will not be met by our treasury: the Archduchess of Filtvet has donated a large number of BattleMechs with which to equip them. These will be the first AFFS regiments equipped with these advanced BattleMechs and you'll be taking command of the Davion Light Guards."

"Sir, I have a couple of... requirements if I'm to do this."

"Do you mean demands, Colonel?"

"Respectfully, sir."

"I see." Vincent looked over at his father who nodded slightly. "Alright Colonel. What do you... require?"

"Firstly, I'd like to bring all my people from this mission. I already handpicked them and I'll need their expertise to form the regiment."

"As you wish. And secondly?"

"Sir, I want a free hand. The current combat environment – the battlespace, if you will – isn't what we're training our soldiers for. The age of the long, elegant campaigns is over. Battles will be faster and more deadly now, influenced as much by events in orbit above them as by success on the ground."

"And you think you have the answers?" asked Vincent. "Are you sure you aren't letting your future reputation affect your judgement?"

"My future reputation?" Pitcairm raised his eyebrows. "What reputation would that be?"

His response was a dry chuckle from Alexander and a chastened look from Prince Vincent. "It would seem that I owe my father five pounds and you an apology, Colonel Pitcairn. You're unaware that in the history of the periphery you played a major role in the Outworlds campaign and later founded one of our major military academys?"

"It hadn't come up." Then the corner of his mouth turned up. "So that battleship we crossed paths with really was named after a version of me. I guess that I have a lot to live up to."

"Try not to let it go to your head, Colonel," Vincent advised. "Many of us don't plan to follow the paths set out in that history."

**Dundee, New Scotland**

**New Avalon, Federated Suns**

**17 April 2758**

Ursula Liao found it somewhat ironic that her current refuge was an estate owned by Terril Davion. The septagenarian (and formally unacknowledged) cousin of the First Prince had once been a contender for the hand of Chancellor Salicia Liao. Had the marriage not foundered on a lack of ambition on the part of Terril and lack of desire by Ursula's second cousin once-removed, neither she nor her treacherous brother would have been in the line to be Chancellor and Terril might well have ruled the Federated Suns.

Instead he was content to tend to his gardens on the northern-most continent of New Avalon and steer clear of politics. The disappearance the Varnay court-in-exile along with every other 26th century resident of Turin (now part of the Magistracy of Canopus) had cut most of his ties to the Capellan Confederation but Lord Terril remained familiar with the customs of the Capellan Court and had extended every courtesy to its Chancellor-in-Exile.

In this case he bowed deeply before entering the garden grotto where Ursula was studying reports from her former realm over a glass of strong Turkish coffee. "Good day, Lady Liao. It seems that you have some visitors."

"Really?" She saw no one and concluded that Terril was advising her in advance, so that she prepare herself to meet them. "Might I ask who has come to call?"

Terrill nodded his head. "Why of course. Two representatives from the Magistracy of Canopus. One Yuki Bakura who has diplomatic credentials and her aide, Ning-ti Liao who I must say holds himself like a military man. A mechwarrior, unless I miss my guess."

"A mechwarrior named Liao?"

"Quite so. My security is checking their bona fides." Terril glanced around. "Would you like to meet them here."

Ursula ignored the veiled reference to the fact that the hedges conveniently concealed from view a pair of her bodyguard detail who had followed her into exile. "As good a place as any," she agreed, closing up her remote computer terminal and slipping it back into the valise that she used to transport it. "Unless of course, it would inconvenience you."

"Oh not at all." The lord smiled slightly. "I'm sure I can fill my time protecting my ivy from your ladies in waiting."

The chancellor laughed lightly. Her senior attendant was mildly allergic to ivy and had been making quiet efforts to strip it from the walls around the wing of the mansion that housed Ursula's rooms, even though there was no actual need for her to come into contact with the plant.

A few moments after Terril had taken his leave, Ursula's aide escorted a short, silver-haired woman and a tall, lean man of more obviously asian appearance. Both seemed quite young to hold important office, but Ursula had learned that the appearance youth among those from the thirty-first century could be deceptive.

"Chancellor Liao," the woman said and bowed her head slightly. "I am Ambassador Bakura, representing both her royal highness Magestrix Savitri Centrella of Canopus and her serene highness Duchess Ehlana Centrella of Andurien."

Ursula hoped that the sting of the reference to Andurien, which her father had gone to such extremes to regain for the Capellan Confederation only for it to be torn away once more by the vagaries of the universe. "Ambassador," she said in a neutral tone.

Ambassador Bakura gestured to her companion who offered a deeper bow. "And may I present to you Colonel Liao of the Magistracy Army."

"You may indeed. I presume your name is no coincidence, Colonel?"

Ning-ti nodded. "A somewhat distant kinship via a twenty-ninth century Chancellor of the Confederation. Effectively meaningless since 3025 of course."

"Ah yes. The Battle of Sian and the subsequent partition of the Confederation."

"That does rather bring us to the topic of conversation," Bakura stated. "As you can imagine, the notion of carving up the Capellan Confederation isn't poorly received on Atreus, Taurus or even here on New Avalon. I don't believe that Prince Alexander has any specific plans for this, but since he's at war with your brother..."

"And how does your Magestrix feel about this?"

"Quite frankly, the Magestrix went to great lengths eight years ago in her attempts to come to some sort of negotiated peace with the Capellan Confederation even following the atrocities that the Chancellor had ordered. She would very much prefer that the Confederation survive but of course that is rather contingent on their being willing to break away from the Star League."

Ursula couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Oh I think you can count on my standing firmly against Ian Cameron's little club but I'm not precisely in any position to execute that policy."

"That, Madame Chancellor, is where Colonel Liao comes in."

She raised an eyebrow. "Colonel?"

"As you might imagine there are quite a number of former CCAF soldiers resident in the Duchy of Andurien and to a lesser extent the Magistracy's Andermax District. My own command, the Third Andermax Volunteers is almost entirely made up of such soldiers in fact. If you are willing to accept us then General McCarron had confirmed that he will permit me to lead my command and an equivalent number of volunteers equipped at Canopian expense to support your cause."

"Two regiments of BattleMechs while valuable would not really change the strategic equation," she pointed out.

Bakura raised one finger. "There are also a number of Capellan soldiers and spacemen serving with the SLDF who are now in Canopian or Filtvet prison camps. Her royal highness has declared herself willing to release her prisoners to your custody and is currently negotiating the same for those in the keeping of Archduchess Calderon-Davion. We are also willing to loan you the funds to purchase certain warships of the Canopian Navy Royal that are currently facing decommissioning. While not the equal of truly modern vessels, they are direct copies of pre-war Terran designs so they should compare rather well with your brother's fleet."

"Quite an expensive loan to make. How many ships are you talking about?" Her mind was already correlating which elements of the CCAF might be convinced to side with her if she made a suitable show of force.

Ning-ti handed over a computer disk. "The exact details are here, Madame Chancellor. But in summary, the Magestrix is offering you eight Farragut-class battleships, none of them more than six years old."

"I... don't know what to say."

The colonel smiled slightly. A handsome man, Ursula admitted to herself. "I would suggest saying 'I accept', if it wouldn't be too presumptious of me."

**Grimm Keep, Oberon VI**

**Oberon Confederation, Outer Reaches**

**7 May 2578**

The medieval trappings of Grimm Keep did not prevent it from housing a completely modern command centre. From here links stretched out via HPG links to every world that answered to Oberon, links that could convey orders to any of hundreds of military or naval forces.

Hakim Wbika had seen such arrangements many times of course but the scope and scale of this were on a par with what he imagined that the larger states of the Inner Sphere utilised. The central mapping plot covered a region that stretched from Rasalhague in the Draconis Combine out to clusters hundreds of light years beyond any map he had seen before.

"The Chainelane Isles?" he asked, pointing at the map. "And the Hanseatic League? Is her majesty keeping secrets?"

"Naturally," replied Katherine Dormax. "Although not this one. Those states existed in the thirty-first century but they haven't been settled in this time and for some reason they weren't brought back in time. Their location is restricted information outside of the Confederation – only the Senate Intelligence Commitee was briefed, in case the SLDF rolled over us and we needed to evacuate the leadership to a final refuge. Well, the leaders and a support structure to keep them alive in exile."

Wbika frowned. "That would be terrible for morale."

"Oh don't worry. If it came to that, the support structure would be well armed and the retreating leadership would be able to take up productive roles as agricultural serfs since I doubt they'd have any other useful skills in a barebones colony."

"I never thought that you were a closet revolutionary, Colonel. Well, not until Apollo I suppose. So what can you tell me about the defences here? I don't have to tell you how critical the Oberon Confederation's factories are to the war effort."

"At the moment we have two BattleMech regiments, three tank regiments and five infantry regiments here on Oberon VI and the same on Blackstone, protecting both MechWorks facilities. What mostly worries me is the warship cover – all we have there is light pickets – armed dropships and a couple of Pinto corvettes. Most of the fleet assets we have are at Star's End, which is far too close to the Lyrans. If they ever hit us in force we only have twenty warships and all but one of our heavy ships are restored Dart cruisers we bought from the Hegemony in the first place."

"You're turning into quite the naval strategist," observed Wbika. "I thought that I was the Admiral."

"Everyone will be thinking in terms of warships these days, sir. Let's be honest: as far as the Star League is concerned we're a sideshow. The Battle of Estuan had both sides committing around a hundred warships. That's half a peacetime navy in a single conflict – more warships than the Rim Worlds had in their entire history unless you count crude armed jumpships. The time when Battlemech regiments decided the course of a war are over and done with."

"And we don't have many, do we?" Wbika sighed. "Out manuvered again. I must be getting old."

Katherine frowned. "I don't understand, sir."

"Her Majesty Queen Charlotte is our Foreign Minister now. Any victory won for us can only be through negotiations and thus, it is she who will earn accolades from them. If she can persuade the Lyrans to make peace with us then she'll have the Senate eating out of her hands."

**CCS **_**Jade Dragon**_**, Pirate Jump Point**

**Sian, Capellan Confederation**

**28 May 2578**

The Capellan warships guarding the jump point were fully aware that the Canopians possessed Terran-design battleships so the unscheduled arrival of one was met with insistent demands for authentication and the launch of aerospace fighters. While they might have expected to see the Cameron Star or the emblem of the Magistracy upon the bow, they never expected to see instead the hand and saber of the Capellan Confederation, painted in green.

And then a second ship arrived – and a third and fourth. Even with dozens of armed dropships rushing up from the surface to reinforce the defenders, the situation plainly did not favour them.

"This is Chancellor Ursula Liao." The transmission came as a fifth battleship jumped into the system. "I have come to remove the Terran puppet Alistair Liao from power and restore the independence of the Capellan Confederation."

"Lady Liao," replied Captain Wheatley of the CCS _Pulverizer_. "Little as I like to address you in this disrespectful fashion, you have been deposed. Alistair Liao is now the duly elected Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation." He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about saying that: even one of those battleships outmassed his destroyer and its divisionmate, CCS _Vanquisher_.

The face on video that accompanied the spoken message did not relinquish her composure. "There are three flaws in that arguement, Captain Wheatley."

"Firstly, Chancellors are elected for life. The Prefectorate never had the authority to strip me of office. For Alistair Liao to hold the title he claims would require me to die. And since I still live, my brother is clearly both a fraud and incompetent."

She couldn't really be condemning her own brother for his _inability to murder her_, could she?

"That incompetence is the second flaw in your argument. The Capellan Confederation has benefited from years of good government and increasing prosperity. Under the illegal regieme you are endeavouring to justify, the Confederation has been dragged into a losing war while House Marik and House Davion have failed to make progress at."

Wheatley waited for the third point but Ursula seemed content to let the moment last as a Leviathan jumpship arrived at the jump point. It appeared to be carrying at least three large dropships as well as four smaller ones. Troop transports?

"I believe you had three flaws in my argument, Lady Liao."

"Indeed. Captain."

It was plainly not the captain of the _Pulverizer_ that she was addressing.

"Missiles!" A technican shouted out. "Five capital missiles incoming."

"Prepare firing solution!" barked Wheatley, gripping the arms of his chair. With such a small salvo, it might well be that the invaders were using nuclear weapons to brush his ships aside. "Missile defense!"

Through the slit windows of his command deck there were five flashes of light, neatly spaced one second after another.

"The missiles exploded, sir!"

"Our defences?" he asked.

"No sir, they never came into engagement range."

Wheatley turned his attention back to viewscreen to where Ursula Liao was watching him calmly. "I take it that that was your third point... Madame Chancellor."

"Quite so." Her smile had widened slightly at the use of the title.

"Your logic is insurmountable," Wheatley agreed. "No doubt your admiral will have orders for me as to how your warships _Pulverizer_ and _Vanquisher_ are to join your formation?"

"I'm sure he will," Ursula agreed and cut the connection.

"That went well," Ning-ti observed from where he had been standing out of the camera's line of sight.

She nodded. "It did. If the planetary authorities fall into line as easily then Sian will make an excellent base from which to gather forces against Alistair."

Even with the government removed to Capella, Sian remained an important industrial world. It was also the logical command centre for the forces being amassed to invade the Magistracy of Canopus. Some of those regiments and ships might decide to fight for Alistair, but others would probably prefer to side with Ursula than be flung into a Canopian offensive as cannon fodder for the SLDF.

Even if Ursula failed to retake her throne, she'd almost certainly do enough damage that the Capellan Confederation would be functionally out of the war for months. It was the sort of war that Magestrix Centrella liked best: fought on foreign soil and with only the tiniest investment of troops and equipment on her part. A Capellan civil war was a war that Canopus could not lose.

It was up to Ning-ti to make sure that as few of his countrymen lost as possible. It didn't occur to him that he'd slipped back to thinking of himself as being Capellan again.

**Terra Prime, Apollo**

**Republic of the Outer Reaches**

**29 May 2578**

Charlotte watched the Senate settle into their places. Of course she was technically one of them now. That had been trivially easy to arrange since the Oberon commitment to democracy was no more than paper thin. Many would vote for her simply because she was a known quantity, some would vote for her in the reasonable expectation that a district voting for her could expect a return in additional government subsidies and contracts; and if any of those had failed then there were always the 'voting districts' of as of yet uncolonised sections of one planet or another where she was the default landowner and could have been the sole person capable of casting a vote.

'Rotten boroughs' had a long and honourable tradition in democracy, or so her husband had taught her. There were some honestly elected senators but according to the reports of her Rangers they were well short of making up the majority.

"Honoured Senators," the speaker announced. "The Foreign Minister, Senator Charlotte Grimm, has requested that today's agenda be deferred in favour of new business. Does this have your approval?"

There was no protest, which passed for 'agreed' in Charlotte's book. Normally she discussed her actions as the Foreign Minister with a select committee of Senators rather than all of them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Lyran Margrave Gram has agreed to withdraw his ground forces from Treeline and Persistence." In fact except for a token presence – largely SLDF regiments - he already had done. He had other uses for those soldiers.

She let the ripple of surprise through the room before continuing. "This is not an official settlement that has the approval of Tharkad and we are not at peace, but the Margrave has been persuaded that continuing to hammer at two border worlds is not going to serve his ambitions."

"With respect, Minister." The senator speaking slightly emphasised that title. Ministers were answerable to the Senate, at least that was the theory of the current unstable arrangement of government. "How do we know that he won't use those forces to attack us elsewhere."

"I would say that that is slightly more likely than the alterative, Senator. That is why agents among his forces are reporting in regularly. In the event that the Margrave does take such an action, a substantial portion of our fleet is shadowing him. Minister Wbika assures me that it would be childishly easy to entrap him if he makes a bid to resume the attack."

"The less likely, but potentially more rewarding choice on his part – for our Republic and for the Margrave's ambitions – would be for him to do otherwise."

Charlotte paused again and sure enough, someone queried her.

"What else would he do? His orders are to invade us. Doing anything else would simply have him removed by the Archon and the First Lord."

"And if he declined to be removed?"

"That would be treason!"

"Only against the Archon. And only if he fails." Charlotte's smile was graphic reminder to the senators of her ancestral profession: "Remember the old saying: treason never prospers for if it does then none dare name it treason."

Katherine Siever, a cousin of Charlotte's former co-consul, rose to her feet. "You have no right to set foreign policy in this manner without the direction of the Senate."

"I'm the Foreign Minister, Senator. This very Senate elected me to that position when they created it. Perhaps you could remind me of where in that process you set limits on the authority of my office?" She smiled. "Now you can, if you wish, propose that I be relieved of the position. But think how foolish it would seem for you to strip the woman who has saved the Outer Reaches from invasion of her position. You'd be a laughing stock."

"Minister Wbika assures me that if Margrave Gram is indeed moving his forces towards the interior of the Lyran Commonwealth then it will be trivially easy to organise attacks on the basing areas where the rest of his forces – the SLDF regiments and the Archon's loyalists – are stationed. With their supplies diverted to Gram's positions, they will be easily disposed of and our borders will be secure. The Lyran Commonwealth will suffer a debilitating civil war, the Draconis Combine is still recovering from the invasion of their capital and no one else is close enough to matter."

Charlotte's expression was for once open. "Or is your complaint, Senator, not that the Republic has been saved but that it was by my hand? Because I don't see that you have been doing anything since you were elected except feathering your nest... at least according to the Minister of the Interior's police reports. Isn't it fortunate that senatorial status protects you from prosecution, at least until you're impeached."

Other senators drew away from Siever as if she had suddenly contracted the plague.

The Queen of Oberon smiled wolfishly. "Honorable senators, I cede the floor to Minister Pierre Kosigan to discuss a petition for the impeachment of Senator Siever in light of recent evidence implicating her in the appointment of undercover LIC and H-CID agents to offices of authority within the Outer Reaches."

If she couldn't be Queen of all the Outer Reaches, Charlotte would settle for Minister – just as long as it was understood that she was the first amongst Ministers.


	12. Book Three, Chapter Three

**A/N**:

Little bit of a Q&A for Pacificuser and blueliberty:

so since the perifery went back in time,does this mean that the events of the 4th succession war are no longer going to take place in this Universe?

_The Periphery that went back in time was from 3031, but the Fourth Succession War did not happen. Essentially the Third Succession War ended around 3020 after some fairly savage battles that year. The Capellan Confederation got seriously weakened then and proceeded to disintegrate in the mid-20s leading to desperate efforts to hold it together through terror and the War of 3025 aka the Capellan Partition, which ended with the rest of the Inner Sphere blasting Sian back to the Stone Age. Following that, no one has been too eager to rush into another war particularly as the first side to attack would probably see all the neutrals ally with the victims._

Why are the torians still angry at house Davion for crimes they are yet to comit? I mean,this is a different Universe right?

_The Taurians had just about forgiven but not forgotten their resentment of House Davion in the 31st century when they got set back to face the same generation of Davions that annexed half the Concordat and the Star League that killed 25% of the Taurian population. As you might imagine, they're pretty keen not to have that happen again._

will you please kindly post more original warship designs from the shattered dawn setting? Perhaps the updated stats for the Iron Duke class? Will we see the the Ascalon class for the fedsuns? How about the Emerald class fast cruiser?

_I don't have the stats for any upgrades off the Shattered Dawn designs. I will post another design with the next chapter though._

* * *

**The Triad, Tharkad City**

**Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth**

**3 June 2578**

Kevin jerked awake as the door of his room opened sharply, spilling light across the bedchamber. "What?" he exclaimed muzzily reaching towards the bedside table where – on the insistence of his father – he kept a sidearm.

"There's no time!" the guard who entered announced urgently. "We have to leave!"

"I don't... It's only three in the morning!"

Before the guard – one of his father's retainers from Coventry – could speak, the sound of automatic weapons fire brushed any vestige of sleep from Kevin's mind. "Never mind," he responded and scrambled out of bed before crouching to retreive the small bag stashed beneath it. "Tell me as we go."

They both moved – but not in the same direction. "Where are you going?" the man asked, frustration in his voice as he realised Kevin was not following him towards the door. "Archon we have to..."

Kevin pressed a carving on the fireplace and a wall panel slid open. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not escape _towards_ a firefight," he pointed out and stepped inside.

With a muttered curse the guard stepped forwards towards the entrance and then halted as a red dot appeared on his chest. "My father brief all our real security on this passage," Kevin told him. "But in case your memory's faulty what is today's counter-sign."

In an awe-inspiring display of speed, the man almost had his pistol pointed in the right direction before the first slug from the shotgun concealed just inside the passage blew his chest open. Hands automatically following long and repetitive training, Kevin moved the muzzle to follow the falling body and fired another shot – buckshot this time - into the unprotected throat, just in case of body armour.

More shots sounded from outside of his bedroom and breathing deeply Kevin backed up further into the passage, closing the door behind him. Fortunately he could have navigated the passage in his sleep and was halfway down a stairway hidden in the Triad's massively reinforced structure when he realised that he had left the bag with his escape kit in it where he had dropped it on taking up the shotgun.

It was too late to go back. Wearing only his pyjamas and carrying a shotgun, the young Archon padded down almost to the bottom of the steps before pausing and uncovering a small eye-piece in the wall. Via a periscope this allowed him to examine the room he was about to enter.

"What?" he murmered on seeing the occupants: his twin brother and two of the young noblewomen that they had danced with the previous evening. Duke Kelswa's daughters, no less. But there was no party atmosphere in the room. Two men in LCAF uniforms stood over the three young people, deadly looking submachine guns in their hands.

Kevin bit his lip, judging the angles. If he was right then neither soldier was covering the hidden panel leading into the room. Of course, the fact that the soldiers were there suggested that the room wasn't a safe one.

The urge to take a different exit shamed him deeply but... he was the Archon. Was it not his duty to escape whatever coup was taking place? To provide continuity to the government? He wasn't even a soldier!

For a long moment he looked at Mark, at Micaela and Charlotte Kelswa. He wondered where Sarah was. Had she been captured too or...

Then Kevin swallowed and started unloading the magazine of his shotgun. He'd need a very specific load for this and the alternating buck and ball loadout wouldn't quite suit.

Mark Steiner felt humiliated. He'd been on the toilet when the soldiers burst into his room and he knew that the urine on his pants must be easy enough for others to smell. The Kelswa girls must think I'm a coward, he thought.

Another part of him contended that there were more vital concerns than worrying about impressing girls. If Kevin wasn't here did that mean that he had escaped? Or was he lying on the floor somewhere like... His mind sheered away from the possibility, as did his eyes, looking up at a panel in the wall. If the soldiers had only been confident enough to leave guards outside! He could open the secret passage and all three of them could have fled, leaving their captors none-the-wiser.

But no. And Mark was realistic enough to realise that the two combat-hardened soldiers would be more than a match for three unarmed teenagers, particularly when they had no opportunity to plan their attack.

And then the wall panel slid open and he caught a brief view of Kevin's face before the muzzle-flash of a shotgun half-blinded Mark.

It did more than half-blind the first soldier: at close range the buckshot had only spread out a few inches and the man's quick reaction in turning to face the new thread meant that Kevin managed to place the full load between chin-strap and helmet-rim.

That still left one soldier and his SMG was whipping around with deadly speed.

An instant before the gun could fire its deadly load of flechettes into Kevin, Mark threw himself against the gun arm and deflected the shot. The soldier was knocked off his feet but managed to bring the boy down on top of himself.

For a second, perhaps three, they struggled – the soldier trying to get his gun free to shoot, Kevin trying to draw a clean shot at him without hitting his brother. The two of them fired almost at the same time and the soldier screamed in agony as the twelve-gauge slug slammed into his leg just below the cover of his flak-vest.

Mark went limp abruptly and for a moment Kevin thought that the shot had somehow hit both of them. Then his brother fell sideways, leaving a bloody trail where the flechettes had torn into his belly.

"Oh god." Kevin stumbled forwards, trying to step clear of the passage before losing last night's supper he stumbled over the bodies that lay immediately in front of him and went sprawling. His stomach heaved as he caught himself on both hands, losing his grip on the shotgun, and the Archon vomited across the floor. Gathering scattered wits, he made the mistake of looking to see what he had tripped on.

The glassy eyes of Robert Dinesen and Selvin Kelswa looked back at him.

Although a moment or two must have passed it was only the sharp end of the soldier's screaming that drew his attention away from the two dead faces and his own hoarse breathing.

Micaela Kelswa had taken the flechette gun and was now removing the muzzle from where it had been pressed between the soldier's lips. Her sister had turned Mark over and Kevin could see – and smell – the horrid sight of his twin's perforated intestines spilling out of his body. Mark's eyes were closed and it was plain that he was no longer breathing.

"We to go," Micaela told him gently, pulling the flechette gun's sling over her shoulder. She, like her sister, was wearing only a nightgown. It was horribly incongruous with the setting and the... and the...

And their fathers.

And Mark.

Kevin wanted nothing more than to believe that this was only a dream. A nightmare. But he would settle for not having to look at it again. Besides which, while the lounge was sound-proofed, no doubt the smell would draw attention soon.

"You're right." But as he picked up the shotgun again, he had to linger long enough to ask her one question: "Who ordered this?"

"Gram," she said bitterly. "Margrave Henry Gram."

He nodded slowly in understanding, committing the fact to memory. "This way. There's an exit near the hangers and there's always one or two escape craft ready to go. Some of them will be a little cramped for three of us but we'll have to manage."

**SLS **_**Callabero**_**, Nadir Jump Point**

**Canopus star system, Magistracy of Canopus**

**3 June 2578**

General Amalthia Kincaid had been steeled for significant losses in securing the jump point into the Canopian system and was pleasantly surprised to find it was effectively unguarded. Oh there was a recharge station, but that was unarmed and the crew had surrendered immediately. The lone dropship that had been patrolling was now pursuing the better part of valour and making best speed towards Canopus IV. It was probably possible to have a Leopard dropship overhaul the little dropship but there wasn't any great point. It was't going to make a difference.

She had arrived with the second wave, more than forty destroyers and corvettes that would provide the escort cover for her transports. Right now the ships were moving away from the jump point, clearing it for the transports. There were hundreds of jumpships about to arrive, carrying the dropships of VIII Corps' two divisions.

After them would arrive the rear-guard formation of warships, a match for her vanguard: each made up of no less than fifty Quixote missile frigates. That made her forces the largest ever deployed by the Star League for a single operation: more ground forces than Forlough had taken to Niles and more warships than the entire number that had been deployed on the Taurian frontier before Estuan.

"We have an initial report, general."

Kincaid turned to her intelligence officer. In contrast to the tired old joke, Colonel Samuel Felter was not only a long time intelligence professional, but also smart as a whip. Although short and balding, the Robinson native had also been one of few stars so far of the SLDF's Intelligence Corps in their handling of the Canopian front. The only reason he'd not vanished the previous Christmas had been that he was making a report to then-General Ian Marik following more than a year inside the Magistracy under cover. Even so it had taken Kincaid's personal appeal to prevent him from being sidelined after the Federated Suns' secession, a fate suffered by most Davion officers who had elected not to resign from the SLDF.

"Thank you Sam." She accepted the data pad he offered and started to page through it. "Can you give me the highlights?"

"Our astronomical data has the usual errors," Felter began, tacitly confirming the wisdom of arriving at one of the standard jump points rather than risking bringing the fleet through a pirate point. "The fleet's chief navigator assures me that he will have a refined set of data ready by the time we reach the inner system. Regarding defences, they appear to be concentrated around Canopus itself."

Kincaid scrolled though the pages. "Duke Marik's report abou their orbital industries has been borne out then... a twenty-slip shipyard, major dropship construction facilities and all the attendant factories. So these defences...?"

"We believe that we have positively identified almost three hundred orbital weapon platforms so far. Of course others may still be behind Canopus IV itself, or otherwise obscured. Rather small stations but certainly large enough to threaten a landing force. There are also eight warships that largely confirm to the reports of Canopian cruisers seen at Tellman's Mistake."

"Only eight?"

"Eight so far. There are several smaller contacts likely to be corvettes of the type seen during the same battle but this has not yet been confirmed. Also numerous dropships, and we must expect that some are in reserve on the surface."

"More than likely. Canopians seem to have impressive assault dropships." Kincaid nodded. "We should move in-system. We don't want to waste time since they will probably call in some reinforcements from nearby systems."

Felter nodded his head. "Thus far we've not heard officially from Canopus. However from the public chennels we're picking up, the population must be close to that of Terra. It's hard to imagine that they won't pull out all the stops."

"Oh no doubt. I imagine they'll sound us out, at least as far as the Ares Conventions go."

"And your orders in that regard?" asked Felter cautiously. The Conventions had been reinstated of course, but there was enough flexibility under them that their implementation was not simply a yes or no question.

Kincaid smiled slightly. "That's the question of the hour, isn't it? We're going to play this straight, Sam, just as long as they do. We'll put a foothold down outside the cities but in striking range of them. Give them room to come out and meet us. Unless they dig into the cities we won't go in to root them out... and under _no_ circumstances will we be trying to _blast_ them out."

**Tesseraburg, Franz**

**Tharkad, Lyran Commonwealth**

**4 June 2578**

From Tharkad, the three refugees had flown north.

The Typhoon-A – outwardly a museum-piece – had been maintained in perpetual readiness to fly since the death of Robert Steiner, forty-six years before. While slow and lumbering compared to many other aerospace fighters, it was far faster and more agile than the helicopters that Garm's forces were using to secure the airspace of Tharkad City.

Over the massive glaciers that dominated the northern continents of the Lyran capital the fighter had been able to avoid pursuit and now, half a world away, they were descending into the evening of a deceptive peacefulness.

"Do you think they've guessed we're coming here?"

Kevin considered his answer for a moment and then admitted: "I hope not, Charlotte. But there's no way to tell for sure except to land. And..." He tapped his fuel gauge. "We must land soon."

"Then..."

"Then we take our chances. Is that not right, Archon Steiner?"

He looked back and met Micaela's eyes briefly. "That is correct... Grand Duchess Kelswa."

"And what then?" asked Charlotte. "Gram must have control of space over Tharkad. We're trapped."

"That's not necessarily the case," Kevin replied. "He couldn't have brought many forces with him from the Rim Worlds front and warships would have been very obvious. Most of his forces must be on the ground and he'll be relying on confusion to keep the warships stationed here neutral. It's not as if they'd fire on the Triad after all."

"There are three of the new Valkyrie-class destroyers on orbit." Micaela glanced upwards. Unlike Charlotte who was crammed in behind the pilot's chair, she had had to sit across Kevin's lap in order that all three of them could get into the cockpit so she was plainly visible to him. "They're fast ships – they can get us to Tamar."

"If possible, I'd like to get all three of them onside. One to take you both to Tamar, one to warn Duke Lestrade of Gram's treason and one to take me to Hesperus."

"Hesperus?" Micaela frowed. "Surely you should come to Tamar with us. We can rally the regiments there against Gram."

"I can trust the two of you for that. But Gram must control Coventry and now he has Tharkad as well. That leaves him in control over two of our largest BattleMech factories. Taking Hesperus II and the new Defiance Industries factories there would leave us without any major sources of BattleMechs at all. In any extended conflict, contol over Hesperus and over the shipyards at Skye and Tamar will be critical."

"You're right," she agreed. "But Charlotte should go to Skye. There are three of us and three ships."

He frowned. "But... oh." It was possible, of course, that not all of the destroyers would escape from the Tharkad system. "Yes, you're right. We can't afford to have all our eggs in one basket. Once I've secured Hesperus II, we can rendezvous on Arcturus and then plan how to retake Tharkad and oust Gram."

"This is going to be a long war, isn't it?"

"Only if we win." Kevin glanced down at the ground. They were closing in on the planetary militia base he'd picked out, approaching them from low ground where radar wouldn't pick them out. Nonetheless, they'd be detected soon and hopefully he could get onto the ground without having to announce his presence. The warships might not bombard the Triad, but if Gram spun a suitable tall tale then they might well fire on a remote airfield. "If you actually want nightmares, consider what could happen if Ian Cameron decides to throw his support to Gram."

"He couldn't do that!"

Her sister shook her head. "Charlotte, isn't that exactly what he did to the Liaos?"

**Jumpship **_**Poison Ivy**_**,**** Deep Space**

**Terran Hegemony**

**5 June 2578**

For the last time the _Poison Ivy_ had jumped alone ahead of the Combined Grand Fleet. This had become more and more dangerous as the fleet crept deeper into the Inner Sphere but the chances that anyone would be prowling this particular little part of the void between stars was literally astronomical. They were perhaps a light year from Keid and within a single jump of the ancestral home of humanity.

Since their arrival three days ago the only things that Mela Kochinski had detected were the weak broadcasts from surrounding planets, signals hilariously out of date and out of sequence. Only the transmissions from Keid had been sent since the event of Christmas 2766 and signals from Terra spoke of the Star League as a future prospect built on a comparatively recent treaty with the Lyran Commonwealth joining the Hegemony, Free Worlds League and Capellans in peace and free trade.

Now, in response to the crew's report, the first ships were beginning to arrive. There were four designated points to arrive at, each a light second from the Ivy. A quarter of a million kilometres was enough spacing that there was no prospect of collision as long as each ship cleared its arrival point promptly.

The first ships to arrive were the four Marian Battlestars. As large and as heavily armoured as anything else in the fleet, each had a large fighter complement to help secure the area, a hyperpulse generator to report problems instantly to the ships waiting to arrive (rather than having to wait three days for the signal from the _Poison Ivy_'s 'fax machine' to arrive) and a lithium-fusion battery so that they could escape if strictly necessary.

Since no trap was in place, the four massive warships started to converge towards the Ivy and one ship at a time began to appear, following them in line towards the rendezvous point.

There would be no gathering like this again: scattered forces that had taken three different routes to reach this location – from the Outworlds, from Andurien and even at the last minute racing across the Federated Suns from Filtvet – would be dividing shortly into task forces for separate strikes. Only here would the Combined Grand Fleet and its support train assemble in one place.

Fox and Flash class corvettes from the FCN and TCN spread out to provide a perimeter guard while heavier ships closed in. Closest to the _Poison Ivy_ were the handful of battleships: Filtvet's Ascalon-class and Taurian Calderon-class ships joining the battlestars – twelve warships in all, including the FCS _Golden Lion_, flagship of Fleet Admiral Jeffrey B. Global, the Arch-Duchess' Champion and commander of Task Force Tiger, and TCS _Samantha Calderon_, from which Admiral Cain would command the entire Combined Fleet.

Outside of this force were the mainstays of the heavy warship forces: cruisers and battlecruisers. Here the main strength of the Canopian Navy Royal was represented: fifty Canopus-class cruisers led by HMS _Mapusaur_, the new flagship of Admiral Stephanie Carrington's Task Force Dragon. No other class was so well represented – even the array of their Taurian counterparts, slightly outnumbering the Canopians, was divided into four classes – two of cruisers and two of battlecruisers. Admiral Rukia Fukuda's Task Force Phoenix had its headquarters aboard her own cruiser: TCS _Brimstone_.

Finally, between the cruisers and the perimeter were squadrons of Outback-class destroyers and Porcupine-class 'battlecruiser' monitors protecting the fleet carriers from the Taurian Navy and escort carriers from the Alliance Fleet Arm as they nestled amoung the yardships and transport jumpships of fleet's support train.

Almost three hundred warships and as many more jump-capable vessels were assembled in one of the most formidable fleets since Kerensky's Exodus, all keeping formation upon one battered freighter.

"We have a signal from the _Sam Calderon_," Mela reported.

Margaid nodded. "Put it on the speakers."

"Captain Margaid Chon," a Taurian-accented voice greeted her. "This is Garius Cain."

"Sir."

"On behalf of the Combined Grand Fleet, our salutations to you, your ship and your crew."

Outside, flares began to light up the void of deep space: brilliant candle-flashes of light intended to illuminate across thousands of miles for minutes at a time. No doubt astronomers on Keid would have quite a show to watch in a year or so. Margaid felt a tear beginning to form in a corner of her eyes.

"Thank you for a job well done," Cain finished.

The captain blinked the tear away and glanced around. Mela was looking out of the window – thank goodness, she'd never have let Margaid live this down – and only Osami seemed to have noticed the lapse. The young navigator smiled supportively at her captain before turning back to exchanging data with the fleet's chief navigator.

Mela turned her head and then glared at Margaid suspiciously. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort. Now who will we be topping off the fuel tanks for first?"

**L1 Pirate Point, Earth/Luna**

**Solar System, Terran Hegemony**

**16 June 2578**

The sheer value of the L1 point as a close jump point for urgent cargoes meant that it could not be mined. The Hegemony Armed Forces had recognised the potential chink in the protection of the motherworld however and even now, under the direction of the Star League Defense Force, four large space stations were continually adjusting their positions around the zone. Their orders were uncompromising: anything that jumped in was to be given no more than sixty seconds to transmit their authorisiation.

MIS _Atlantia_'s arrival was enough cause for the stations to be opening fire within seventy-five seconds. The nearest station was impressively prepared and fired within forty-five, correctly deducing that there was no ship so huge within the Star League's arsenal. Each of the stations was built around powerful massdrivers that hurled kinetic penetrators massing fully ninety tons. All four shots hit home but not one penetrated _Atlantia_'s armoured hull.

Still deliberately launching fighter after fighter from the two hangers mounted along its flanks, the titanic ship turned upon the nearer space station and opened fire with its nose armament: four naval gauss rifles and a cluster of capital lasers as it cruised out of the pirate point. The space station blew apart almost immediately, the debris blotting away the dozens of fighters it had launched.

Three more shots hammered into the _Atlantia_ and then the jump point disgorged a second battlestar, the _Galactica_. Unlike her sister ship the new arrival cruised out of the point on a path that led between two of the space stations, engaging with both broadsides as it did so.

As they burned, the rest of Task Force Dragon and Task Force Tiger began to arrive, one at a time, forming up for the short but no doubt contested journeys towards the critical shipyards orbiting Luna and over Terra itself. The light of Task Force Phoenix arriving over Mars was only just reaching Earth's orbit as this first brief battle ended with the last of the space stations blasted to smithereens under the guns of a Canopian cruiser group.

The space stations had not been the extent of the defences of course and across the solar system hundreds of ships rushed to the defence of the capital of the Star League. The mighty _Farragut_-class battleships were all deployed to face the periphery – and had taken significant losses over the last year – but there remained several defense squadrons built around _Monsoon_ and _Dreadnought_-class battleships supported by _Riga_-class frigates.

Three of these squadrons swarmed together over the O'Neil yards. The ships had names to conjure with: SLS _Barham_ and SLS _Thunderer_ veterans of the greatest space battles of the Age of War were now flanking SLS _South Carolina_, the second warship ever built. Their escorting corvettes and destroyers spread out slightly as a fourth capital ship emerged from the docks: the _Kimagure_, lead ship of a new class of fast cruisers and not even commissioned into the Star League Navy yet, was going to see its first battle over the yard completing it as a rush project.

It was an open question whether the battle would also prove to be the _Kimagure_'s last.

Task Force Dragon had the fewest battleships out of any of the task forces. The battered _Atlantia_ and a pair of Calderon-class battleships were acting as a rear-guard, as well as escort for a pair of massive Taurian carriers. By unspoken agreement the majority of the Taurian capital ships were not going to be placed in orbit over Terra.

Ahead of them, thirty-six cruisers in nine clusters of four formed the main 'wall' of the task force, flanked in all directions by corvettes and destroyers. It was an intimidating tonnage but the defenders could expect support from the nearby orbital weapon platforms and ground bases on Luna.

Stephanie Carrington's seat in the Combat Information Centre of HMS _Mapusaur_ was quite different from the admiral's bridge of her previous flagship. While the Canopus-class of cruiser was an excellent combatant, they accomplished this by stripping aside secondary functions, which included a dedicated command deck. Unfortunately the elderly missile defense of HMS _Diamond Throne_ made it ill-suited for this operation and the newer _Warlock_ battleships would not finish construction for months.

"Launch fighters and gunboats," she ordered. "Let's take the measure of their defences."

"That's going to be a bit rough on the fighters."

"Thus their munificent salaries," the Admiral observed. She'd come up through the dropship arm of the Navy and was not overly impressed with the occasional tendency towards swashbuckling on the part of the aerospace regiments. "I'll not court casualties amongst them, ComCapt, but nor will I risk a warship when small craft can do the job."

"I suppose not," the flight control officer agreed reluctantly. An ex-pilot himself he wasn't entirely beyond resentment that the rest of the Navy tended to treat aerospace fighters and their highly trained pilots as expendable assets.

Stephanie watched as a massive force of Taurian gunships, covered by hundreds of aerospace fighters from all nationalities plunged towards Luna. In response, squadrons emerged from the Lunar defence squadron's ships and others rose from the surface or departed their orbital bases.

A quick estimate told her that there were perhaps four hundred defending fighters, giving them numbers roughly equal to the fighters escorting the gunship force. Since they were standing on the defensive it was unlikely that the Star League fleet was holding back a substantial reserve, whereas she had to hold back a sizeable number of her fighters in defense.

The fighters closed in on each other, squadrons manuvering for position as the SLDF tried to engage all the periphery squadrons while they in turn tried to concentrate their numbers to punch a hole in the fighter screen for the gunships. Just under two hundred kilometres separated the two formations when the periphery fighters started firing off their externally carried munitions – not the nuclear-tipped missiles carried by the attack squadrons but small packs of rockets carried by almost every interceptor and superiority fighter.

The small rockets were not enough to destroy any of the enemy fighters except in the rare circumstances that an entire squadron managed to concentrate their fire on a single target. For the most part the SLDF squadrons staggered out of the clouds of explosions with scarred armour and shaken nerves, firing into the onrushing aerospace fighters and gunships.

Lasers, missiles and autocannon tracer filled the space between the two formations before they interpenetrated and then dissolved into a brutal dogfight that from a distance resembled a constellation of comets, dotted with fiery explosions as ammunition bins or hydrogen fuel tanks blew up.

Then the gunships slammed through them, trying to plough a road through the SLDF fighters with their sheer firepower. In some cases it worked, in others the SLDF fighters elected to concentrate their fire upon the relatively lumbering gunships rather than elusive fighters. This however left the remaining SLDF seriously outnumbered and while Taurian fighters moved to protect their countrymen, the incomparable Outworlds aerospace wings ripped gaping holes in the fighter screen.

Almost ignored in this, eighteen _Apis_ fighters from a Canopian carrier dropships slashed towards the Star League warships. Dozens of dropships fired at them, some of them even expending capital missiles to engage them. Four _Apis_ vanished in nuclear detonations but others closed in and fired off the missiles slung under their bellies.

The sky was dotted with more nuclear light as three Leopard-class carriers were blotted out of the sky by the Canopian fighters and one squadron of five dived past the wreckage to fire their missiles into SLS _Clark Savage_. The _Lola_-class destroyer shattered like glass as the missiles ripped deep into its hull but the price of this victory was that the _Apis_ had strayed into the engagement range of the _Kimagure_ and its secondary turrets turned to bear, bringing dozens of lasers on target.

The Canopian fighters were tough, but the newly built cruiser was able to bring twenty large lasers to bear and dropships were also adding their firepower. One _Apis_ broke apart under the pounding and a second was missing most of a wing as it limped away.

They were replaced however by two squadrons of _Stuka_s that focused their missiles upon a pair of Bonaventure corvettes. Then a second compete wing of fighters, this time _Vulcan_s, bulled through and actually dared to close in upon SLS _South Carolina_. The ancient battleship boasted formidable numbers of autocannons but nine _Vulcan_s reached engagement range anyway and each was carrying a five kiloton nuclear missile. Two penetrated the _South Carolina_'s hull, one just ahead of the grav-decks and the other through the ventral engine-pod. Either would have been sufficient to destroy the ship, but as it was only the forward half survived as recognisable fragments.

None of the _Vulcan_s made it out.

And then the gunships – those that had survived – entered engagement range and the Star League's formation disintegrated into barely organised chaos as warship captains struggled to smash the small attack craft with massive weapons not designed to travel small and fast moving targets without accidentally sending those hammer-blows into the hulls of their comrades. They succeeded better in the latter than in the former: missiles from the ground bases and laser fire from the orbital weapon platforms had cut the gunship numbers in half but the warships' cumbersome weapon systems managed to destroy fewer than a score before internal missile bays opened and each fired off a pair of nuclear missiles.

The _Kimagure_ went to maximum rate of fire with its anti-missile turrets and a dozen corvettes with retro-fitted arrays of small lasers did likewise, carving out small pockets of safety around themselves. It proved insufficient to save the _Barham_ or fourteen smaller warships that tore apart under the barrage. _Thunderer_ survived, although much of its bow had been torn away and the mid-ships sensor tower was irradiated wreckage.

As Carrington watched, the twelve Star League warships surviving turned and somehow managed to stagger into something approaching a battle formation, firing defiant broadsides after the retreating gunships and aerospace fighters.

"Excellent work," she approved. "Now it is our turn. All cruiser groups are to close in. We will open fire at seven hundred kilometres." Each of the nine cruiser groups contained a pair of Canopus-class cruisers such as the _Mapusaur_ with a broadside of twelve long-ranged naval autocannon and sixteen naval lasers: more than sufficient to defeat their opponents in an even contest, much less with numbers favouring the cruisers almost three to one. "Offer the defenders a chance to surrender – it's at least possible that some of them will prefer saving the lives of their crews over condemning them to honourable but futile ends."

**SLS **_**Callabero**_**, High Orbit**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**17 June 2578**

One of the great defences of Canopus IV was the size of its star. That gave it an enormously deep interdiction zone – ship arriving from the zenith or nadir jump points typically took roughly two weeks to arrive at the standard one gravity of thrust. Judging by the jump activity from ahead of the Kincaid's task force, the Canopians had used the time to rush reinforcements in and probably to evacuate some members of the government hierarchy.

Of course if there were serious military forces within two or three jumps of Canopus IV, that meant that they could have arrived or be about to arrive, which could prove a problem. Fortunately the nearest border regions were almost a hundred light years away, which provided a narrow window of opportunity – and of course, the SLN warships and the jumpships that they taken in tow had all now had fully charged jumpdrives. If absolutely necessary they could depart via a pirate point.

"You're sure of this?" Amalthia Kincaid asked.

Felter nodded. "It's not just the warships that are coming towards us. The 'orbital weapons platforms' we identified based on Duke Marik's reports are accompanying them. All five hundred of them."

"They're mobile? Well that's just excessive. They've got... what, a hundred or so assault dropships screening their warships already. And we don't know what those non-stationary stations are armed with." The General sighed. "I suppose that that means that the goal of pounding them apart at long range goes out of the window. Thank you for telling me this, Colonel. Please advise Admiral Kirby that I'd like to speak to him."

The intelligence officer bowed slightly and stepped back before leaving, allowing Kincaid to look at the tactical display in privacy. Now that there was no sign of ships in pursuit of them, the fleet had formed up with the Quixote-class frigates in the lead, a double wall of the aged warships between her precious transports and the Canopian defenders.

Fortunately, even with whatever vessels had arrived, there were only eleven of the Canopus cruisers and fifteen of their 'corvettes' were with the defensive force that was manuvering to intercept the Task Force as they slowed to enter orbit. That was a formidable force of coruse – the SLDF Intelligence Corps analysis suggested that the cruisers were considerably better armed and armoured than the Avatar-class ships that were their nearest equivalents in tonnage and the corvettes were only marginally less dangerous, although fortunately they were also forced to keep pace at the moment with their heavier counterparts.

"I heard the new data," Bill Kirby confirmed as he joined Amalthia. "Under the circumstances, I'm planning on an aerospace strike before we enter their range. Our best estimate is that we have an edge of around two to one in aerospace fighters – we can hold eight regiments back to cover the transports and the landing, and still have a clear edge in numbers now. I'd like to break out our stock of Type-II nuclear warheads for the mission."

Kincaid looked at the chart. They were well outside the distance from Canopus IV where the Ares Conventions would proscribe nuclear attacks. That had been part of their plan from the beginning. Even so, that would be committing around six hundred aerospace fighters against an equal number of _dropships_. "Approved," she agreed reluctantly. "I'll transmit authorisation to all ships for the missiles to be loaded. We only have eighty of them though."

"I know." Nuclear missiles were expensive and the SLDF had already authorised the use of a remarkable number of the Type-III warheads for the warship's onboard missile launchers. It was no real surprise to have been left short when it came to the fighter-launched equivalents. "We'll make up what we can with conventional missiles – it'll give us a chance to probe their missile defences before the main event and if a nuke slips through while they're shooting up a high-explosive warhead that will be just too bad."

Kincaid considered the numbers involved. Thus far they appeared to have dramatic advantages in numbers when it came to fighters and warships. "Do you intend to focus on the dropships and these semi-mobile defence platforms?"

"Yes. Nice description of them, by the way. Half a G isn't an impressive turn of speed. This way we take their measure and even one of their monster dropships can't be tough enough to survive even a glancing nuclear strike."

**L1 Pirate Point, Mars**

**Solar System, Terran Hegemony**

**17 June 2578**

"I can't believe that a dropship could survive a nuclear missile!"

"Whether you believe it or not, the bugger's still coming!" Lieutenant Hector de la Croix brought his ancient _Star Dagger_ around and blasted the fighter out of the gun arc of the oncoming dropship. Part of the screening force to the task force that had burst into the Solar System, the dropship was one of many being attacked by the meagre defense forces defending the fourth planet.

Hector's militia squadron had been covering for a squadron of SLDF _Samurai_ that had tried to batter their way through with nuclear missiles – one for the dropship and the rest of the squadron to fire their missiles into the warships behind the dropship.

Now he and Michelle Eaken, who'd taken the shot, were the only survivors. The teardrop-shaped dropship's anti-fighter turrets were mercilessly efficient and had smashed the rest of both squadrons contemptuously aside despite the flash of radioactive brilliance that had marked a five kiloton nuclear weapon detonating near it's nose. Michelle's fighter was limping, having taken its own hit along the frontal armour and somehow failed to suffer fatal systems damage but her _Samurai_ was the only one struck that was still flying, Hector having been fortunate enough to avoid contact.

"They obviously took damage," Michelle continued as she followed him away from the dropship. "The nose is practically a crater!"

Hector's fighter writhed as he tried to avoid looking like a tempting target. "Unless you have a second nuke strapped to your fighter, that doesn't matter a bit, Sergeant Eaken." He checked his radar. "Bandits, seven o'clock high."

His impromptu wingman closed in upon the Star Dagger's flank. "I see them. Looks like a squadron of _Seydlitz_."

The militia officer hissed in concern. The _Seydlitz_ was well known to him – a fast interceptor that could easily outmanuver either of their fighters and mounted a large laser that outranged them as well. At close range, the Lyran design would be cut apart, which meant they wouldn't even try to get close to the Terrans.

"Head for the shipyards!" he ordered and opened up the throttles of his fighter to maximum power, the _Star Dagger_ shaking around him as he drove it towards the Lowell Shipyards. The defences around the facility – the heart of Blue Nose Clipperships' industrial empire – would in the short term ward off the incoming fighters. And with the attempt to break past the defences of the oncoming fleet they were an obvious rallying point.

And an obvious target.

"Flight Control," Hector reported grimly. "This is Lieutenant de la Croix. I am retreating towards the Lowell Shipyards with the only survivor of the 2202nd SLDF AeroSquadron. We have failed to penetrate the invader's screening elements – their anti-fighter weapons are murderous."

"Understood Lieutenant." The voice that replied was clipped and emotionless in stark contrast to the usual cool confidence that flight control officers tried to display towards their charges. "If you're still re-entry capable, make for Point Tau. We're evactuating the yards and we'll need you to cover the escape pods."

"My new wingman isn't re-entry capable," Hector warned and then the content of his new orders sank in. "Evacuation? Surely the defense squadrons from Terra..."

The flight controller let fatigue enter his voice. "Negative, lieutenant. The warship squadrons over Terra are fully engaged and cannot come to our assistance." While the man did not elaborate, Hector knew enough to put the pieces together. The only mobile force over Mars was THS _Satsuma_ and her escorts, fewer than a dozen Bonaventure and Vigilant corvettes. Not one ship in the squadron was less than two hundred years old, pulled out of mothballs when more modern ships were needed on the frontlines.

No one appeared to have considered that Mars and even Terra herself might become the new frontline.

"Your wingman should go to Point Epsilon," the controller continued. "Right now we can't afford to send even a damaged fighter away."

"Understood." Hector glanced at his radar. The _Seydlitz_ were little more than four hundred kilometres out of range. "Looks like I have a few Filets on my rear right now. I'll get back to you if they don't grill me to death." There had been enough intel reports that Hector was fairly sure that these _Seydlitz_ were from the former Federated Suns regions, judging from their IFF codes and the like.

"Eaken, when I give the word, yaw," he ordered. It was a risky manuver, but slowing sharply might brign the pursuing _Seydlitz_ into the range of his own and Michelle's guns. Of course it might also mean that they drew out their flights towards the shipyard complex, but better a late arrival than no arrival at all.

Eyeing the radar, Hector counted down as the range reached what he felt was optimal. "Now!"

Thrusters across both fleeing fighters jerked them around and aimed the potent fusion turbine's thrust in the exact opposite direction from their previous orientation. _Star Dagger_ and _Samurai_ alike slewed wildly in the instants that their thrust was moving through their arcs, and then the six _Seydlitz_ were faced not with the lightly protected aft ends of the pair but with their forward guns, and at a range of little more than a hundred kilometres.

Their own lasers – not so very different from the Maxell SR lasers that the Star League would have developed, a generation or two in their future – fired and coherent light spat back and forth across the divide, punctuated by the tracer from Hector's chain guns. It was a brief interval before the _Seydlitz_s overshot their prey, armour battered and torn but for the most part out of the fight.

Hector brought his _Star Dagger_ about and rocketed away at an angle. "Eaken! Get clear before they turn around!"

There was no reply.

He checked his radar. The _Samurai_ was still under thrust, but still slowing, without manuvering. "Eaken!"

Still no response. The _Seydlitz_ were splitting up into pairs, four of the enemy fighters clawing back after him while two tore into the helpless _Samurai_. It only took two salvos before one laser shot tore one wing away and the hopelessly damaged aerospace fighter went into a tumble, flames tearing through fuel lines and power systems and inexorably closing in towards the hydrogen fuel stores.

The last part of the 2202nd AeroSquadron died in fire as Hector grit his teeth and desperately tried to wring one last erg of acceleration from his fighter.

**Crystal Palace, Crimson**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**17 June 2578**

Deep below her capital, Savitri Centrella watched a holographic display of the orbitals, wishing that she was up there to participate.

She wasn't however. Archibald McCarron, before he left for Andurien to establish an alternate command centre, had used devious tactics – i.e. her daughters – to extract a promise that if she did join the battle she would only do so within the atmosphere of Canopus IV, where her chances of survival if she had to eject would be far better than they were in orbit.

She couldn't even sneak away and participate without Ehlana and Catherine knowing. The duo had every maid in the palace twisted around their little fingers, an intelligence network that would have had any spy service in the Inner Sphere green with envy. On the one hand, Savitri was proud of the little hellions for being so creative. On the other, well, it was a little sad that even offering free biosculpt to any of the palace staff who wanted to be a catgirl or catboy hadn't swayed their loyalty. When had old fashioned bribery stopped working?

The display showed two walls of blue icons – the warships of the SLN and the fighter squadrons that they had launched – rushing towards the warm crimson formations of Melchior Defence Stations, surrounding the twenty-five warships of the defense squadrons and their escorting dropships. By any standard but that of a major fleet, the Canopian Navy Royal's defensive fleet was an impressive force. Of course, they were facing a major fleet and the Melchiors would be desperately needed.

"I'm split between being glad that they're taking the cautious approach and annoyed," the Magestrix said out loud. "This will let us inflict severe losses on their aerospace numbers, but it's also going to let them know what they are dealing with."

"Unless you want them to hold off on using the missile launchers, I don't think we can do much about that, ma'am." RearAd Hank Michaels looked uneasy at the thought.

She shook her head. "No, RearAd, it's not enough of a problem that I want to risk serious losses by having the militia hold back." As part of the 'fixed' planetary defences, the Melchiors were under the command of the planetary milita rather than the CNR proper. "Besides, changing the plan at this late date would be ill-advised."

Michaels nodded and resumed watching his own display – in addition to being the most senior male officer in the Canopian Navy Royal he was commander of the capital's defence squadrons and thus communicating with her from the bridge of HMS _Kurtani_. This was the worst moment for them both. They'd given all the orders and were now relying on their subordinates to carry them out. Unless something went wrong, the two of them were going to be spectators for the next hour or so, relying on group commanders to respond to the Star League's moves.

The two walls slid together at a rate that declined as the SLN gradually overcame the momentum of their run in from the jump point. This, of course, meant that they were for the most part aiming their tails towards the Canopians and would have to turn around in order to engage them. They'd calculated the point for this to leave them just short of the defenders weapons range.

What they apparently were not expecting was for part of the CNR forces to surge forwards: hundreds of aerospace fighters and more than thirty assault dropships along with fifteen battlecruisers and eight dreadnought monitors built on cruiser hulls, all accelerating at more than four gravities towards the enemy.

It wasn't entirely unexpected. The pocket battlecruisers had exhibited the capability before, but never the far larger cruisers. And now their intended turning point was going to be pincered between the Canopian warships and the much slower defense platforms.

What followed was an explosion of SLDF aerospace fighters in all directions as their loose formation burst apart, with squadrons veering in all directions as they sought to avoid the obvious kill zone or to move into attack runs on the warships. Those that managed the latter ran into brutally destructive bolts from the secondary turrets – sub-capital lasers and quad-particle beam turrets hammering into them with enough force to shatter many before they could get into range.

Many, but not all.

Nuclear fire ravened against Canopian hulls as of the twenty-nine missiles fired, twelve managed to break past the mixed laser clusters and chain guns that lined the flanks of the Canopian warships. To observers far away, there was little effect: damage reports reduced to terse code upon Canopian holo-displays and simple observation by the SLDF that the warships – four of the dreadnoughts and three of the battlecruisers – remained under power.

That wasn't to say that they were unscathed. HMS _Yataghan_ had taken two hits, both punching deep into her hull and the stress numbers on her internal members had the handful of officers aware of them white-faced. But with more than half their crew dead and almost every weapon on one flank inoperable, the little battlecruiser had other concerns. The dreadnought HMS _Tortoise_ had also been struck twice but fortune had smiled on the larger ship with both missiles detonating against the thick armour belt rather than finding chinks: despite cratering, the ship's internals were unscathed. The _Tortoise_'s sister ships and two other battlecruisers remained operational despite the impacts.

It was scant consolation to the SLDF that the one assault dropship to have been struck, HMS _Dresden_, had been shattered, the broken hull now spreading in several directions. A tiny Achilles-class ship, built for export to the Federated Suns or to Ursula Liao's nascent 'Free Capella' but now hastily commissioned into service for this battle, it was less than a sixth the size of the dropships that Canopus had built for itself. The other nineteen dropships in its wing were engaging the Star League's fighters with withering fire that blotted entire squadrons out of the sky.

Even under this brutal impact, more than half of the Star League's fighters broke past the warships.

And then their radars screamed as every single Melchior belched forth an anti-shipping Killer Whale missile. Despite the name, there was no reason at all that the missiles – in many cases larger than the fighters they were aimed at – could not hit a manuvering aerospace fighter.

And there were five _hundred_ of them.

_Saber_s, _Centurion_s, _Swift_s and even many _Samurai_ broke apart when missiles caught up with them, the massive kinetic impacts breaking up their fragile structures. Heavier craft like _Eagle_s and _Typhoon_s or _Thunderbird_s might survive a single hit... but then the defence line fired again and a bare handful lucky enough to avoid being struck, or to have taken hits on heavier armour were fleing from their lives, squadrons of Canopian _Sparrowhawk_ interceptors chasing them down ruthlessly.

The heavier squadrons of the Canopian Navy Royal's fighter corps remained in reserve.

Thousands of miles below, the Magestrix nodded her head coldly. She could imagine the damage that codes represented. She, almost alone of the Magistracy's Armed Forces had used nuclear weapons in combat. She knew their effects all too well.

"Now for the main event."


	13. Book Three, Chapter Four

**A/N:**

Class/Model/Name: Calderon Class Battleship  
Tech: Inner Sphere / 2577 (3032)  
Vessel Type: WarShip  
Rules: Level 3, Standard design  
Rules Set: AeroTech2

While much of the Taurian Concordat Navy was made up of small corvettes and cutters, they were entirely able to build larger and more capable warships. The Calderon-class was the king of these, one of the largest and at the same time, most advanced warship designs that the periphery states fielded in the late 2570s. Built around a compact jumpcore and four of the new 'extra-light' fusion thrusters (giving it an advantage in acceleration of at least 0.5g over Inner Sphere heavy warships of 26th century), a Calderon is then wrapped in five thousand tons of lamellor ferro-carbide armour.

The Calderon is a 'balanced' design with a mixed armament of fifty-six naval autocannon, sixty of the new naval pulse lasers and forty-eight capital missile tubes. Secondary armament is built around the subcapital lasers developed by the Canopians - whatever their political disagreements with the Protector, the Canopians are almost always glad to exchange military technology with their neighbours - and defensive armament includes extended range PPCs, pulse lasers and a network of laser anti-missile systems.

Mass: 2,000,000 tons  
K-F Drive System: (Unknown)  
Power Plant: *Extra Light Fusion Engine*  
Safe Thrust: 4  
Maximum Thrust: 6  
Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-carbide  
Armament:  
24 NAC/40  
48 ER PPC  
96 Medium Pulse Laser  
48 Large Pulse Laser  
96 Laser AMS  
36 H-Subcapital Laser*  
96 M-Subcapital Laser*  
60 NPL55*  
32 Killer Whale  
16 Barracuda  
32 NAC/25

Class/Model/Name: Calderon Class Battleship  
Mass: 2,000,000 tons

Equipment: Mass  
Power Plant: *Extra Light Fusion Engine* 240,000.00  
Thrust: Safe Thrust: 4  
Maximum Thrust: 6  
Kearny-Fuchida Hyperdrive: Compact (Integrity = 38) 905,000.00  
Lithium Fusion Battery 20,000.00  
Jump Sail: No Sail (Fusion-Charged K-F) .00  
Structural Integrity: 125 250,000.00  
Total Heat Sinks: 10,000 Double 9,263.00  
Fuel & Fuel Pumps: 14,280.00  
Bridge, Controls, Radar, Computer & Attitude Thrusters: 5,000.00  
Fire Control Computers: 113,156.00  
Food & Water: (225 days supply) 1,538.00  
Hyperpulse Generator: 50.00  
Armor Type: Lamellor Ferro-carbide (5,078 total armor pts) 5,000.00  
Capital Scale Armor Pts  
Location: L / R  
Fore: 933  
Fore-Left/Right: 846/846  
Aft-Left/Right: 846/846  
Aft: 761

Cargo:  
Bay 1: Cargo (1) with 20 doors 28,671.00  
Bay 2: Fighters (18) with 6 doors 2,700.00  
Small Craft (12) with 2 doors 2,400.00

DropShip Capacity: 6 Docking Hardpoints 6,000.00  
Grav Decks #1 - 2: (280-meter diameter) 1,000.00  
Grav Decks #3 - 6: (90-meter diameter) 200.00  
Escape Pods: 240 (7 tons each) 1,680.00

Crew and Passengers:  
159 Officers (159 minimum) 1,590.00  
286 Crew (286 minimum) 2,002.00  
426 Gunners (344 minimum) 2,982.00  
400 Marines 2,000.00  
96 Bay Personnel .00  
Weapons and Equipment Loc SRV MRV LRV ERV Heat Mass

2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) Nose 80 80 - - 270 10,920.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) Nose 80 80 - - 270 10,920.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) Nose 80 80 - - 270 10,920.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) Nose 80 80 - - 270 10,920.00  
6 ER PPC Nose 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
12 Medium Pulse Laser Nose 13(126) 5(54) - - 48 24.00  
6 Large Pulse Laser 60 42.00  
12 Laser AMS Nose - - - - 144 18.00  
6 H-Subcapital Laser* Nose 42 42 - - 192 1,500.00  
12 M-Subcapital Laser* 336 2,400.00  
6 NPL55* Nose 44 44 44 - 612 7,260.00  
8 Killer Whale(160 msls) FL/R 40 40 40 40 320 18,400.00  
4 Barracuda(40 msls) 80 3,120.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) FL/R 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) FL/R 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) FL/R 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) FL/R 80 80 - - 540 21,840.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) FL/R 80 80 - - 540 21,840.00  
6 ER PPC FL/R 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 180 84.00  
12 Medium Pulse Laser FL/R 13(126) 5(54) - - 96 48.00  
6 Large Pulse Laser 120 84.00  
12 Laser AMS FL/R - - - - 288 36.00  
6 H-Subcapital Laser* FL/R 42 42 - - 384 3,000.00  
12 M-Subcapital Laser* 672 4,800.00  
6 NPL55* FL/R 44 44 44 - 1224 14,520.00  
6 NPL55* FL/R 44 44 44 - 1224 14,520.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) L/RBS 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) L/RBS 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
6 ER PPC L/RBS 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 180 84.00  
12 Medium Pulse Laser L/RBS 13(126) 5(54) - - 96 48.00  
6 Large Pulse Laser 120 84.00  
12 Laser AMS L/RBS - - - - 288 36.00  
12 M-Subcapital Laser* L/RBS 24 24 - - 672 4,800.00  
8 Killer Whale(160 msls) AL/R 40 40 40 40 320 18,400.00  
4 Barracuda(40 msls) 80 3,120.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) AL/R 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) AL/R 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/25(1000 rounds) AL/R 50 50 50 - 340 13,200.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) AL/R 80 80 - - 540 21,840.00  
2 NAC/40(1600 rounds) AL/R 80 80 - - 540 21,840.00  
6 ER PPC AL/R 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 180 84.00  
12 Medium Pulse Laser AL/R 13(126) 5(54) - - 96 48.00  
6 Large Pulse Laser 120 84.00  
12 Laser AMS AL/R - - - - 288 36.00  
6 H-Subcapital Laser* AL/R 42 42 - - 384 3,000.00  
12 M-Subcapital Laser* 672 4,800.00  
6 NPL55* AL/R 44 44 44 - 1224 14,520.00  
6 NPL55* AL/R 44 44 44 - 1224 14,520.00  
6 ER PPC Aft 6(60) 6(60) 6(60) - 90 42.00  
12 Medium Pulse Laser Aft 13(126) 5(54) - - 48 24.00  
6 Large Pulse Laser 60 42.00  
12 Laser AMS Aft - - - - 144 18.00  
6 H-Subcapital Laser* Aft 42 42 - - 192 1,500.00  
12 M-Subcapital Laser* 336 2,400.00  
6 NPL55* Aft 44 44 44 - 612 7,260.00  
1 Lot Spare Parts (0.20%) 4,000.00

TOTALS: Heat: 19,456 2,000,000.00  
Tons Left: .00

Calculated Factors:  
Total Cost: 34,525,810,000 C-Bills  
Battle Value: 442,262

* * *

**SLS **_**Callabero**_**, High Orbit**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**17 June 2578**

Amalthia Kincaid did not consider herself to have a formidable depth of naval expertise, but she fully understood what had happened earlier. The shattering casualties amongst the aerospace wings had left the morale among their peers, and the rest of the fleet, somewhere around the level of their toes.

An army that believed that it could not win, would not win. The general saw no reason that a fleet would be any different.

"An expensive reconnaissance," she admitted out loud, keeping her expression calm. Not unconcerned, but by no means panicked. "But now that they've had to show their hands, we can counter them."

Captain Bridger was no less aware of the potential disaster that they were facing. "It's a touch concerning that some of their warships can survive nuclear strikes, at least in the low kiloton range."

"Quite so. The structural bracing must be formidable. I'm no engineer, but how much tonnage would you guess they devote to hull reinforcements to manage that."

"Almost as much as the engines." Bridger had a background in the Hegemony's shipbuilding industries and was able to make rough calculations in his head. "They must be monitors, no jump drives. There's no other way that they could manage to build a hull that large and the sort of monstrous engines that would be necessary to push those cruisers up to four gravities of acceleration."

"Then this battle is going to be decided in the first few exchanges of fire. Whichever fleet can survive the most nuclear weapons wins."

"I can't promise that it's us. We've got a lot of ships, but their ships are much more resilient."

Kincaid nodded. "Well no one ever said that we had a safe job. All ships are to load as many tubes as possible with nuclear weapons. A lot of them won't receive a chance to fire a second salvo so we need the first one to count."

"Losses are likely to be heavy." Bridger warned her.

"I know." She looked around. "Captain, this isn't for general circulation but this battle is our Gettysburg. If we win here then the war goes on. But if we lose... then it may be the last battle of the Star League Defense Forces."

"There are other fleets... other Corps..."

"Not many. And you don't need me to tell you how rocky morale has been lately. You know the old saying: victory has many fathers but defeat is an orphan? We've had too many defeats and no victorys to point to. Sending troops convinced that they will not – _cannot_ – win, is a guarantee of failure. I get the impression that the First Star Lord will sue for peace unless we can find him a victory to rally the Star League behind him."

"From everything I've heard, the Periphery won't accept anything short of the disbanding of the Star League," Bridger pointed out.

"I don't know how accurate that is, but you could be right." She looked at the display. "We seem to be more or less down to manuvering speeds unless I'm very much mistaken. Please advise all vessels that we shall seek action. Excepting only the escorts for the transport fleet all ships will engage the enemy."

The SLDF ships moved forwards and the Canopians reformed to meet them – their smaller but far more numerous vessels readying themselves for the slaughter ahead.

On both sides firing plans were readied and courage mustered. This was no sternly scientific battlefield – it was going to be a crude battering match.

In the end the only question was which would fire as they closed in, each waiting for the chance to get their shot off with the greatest possible accuracy, pitting that desire against the urgency that if they waited too long... they might not have the chance to fire at all.

In the event they both did.

On the surface of Canopus Savitri Centrella watched with stony eyes as ships blew apart. The SLN's _Quixote_s were badly out numbered but each could bring at least six missile tubes to bear, while the Melchiors could only manage one and lacked even the simple arrays of lasers that served the _Quixote_s for missile defence.

Fortunately for the crews, each Melchior had a single lifeboat and no sooner had they fired their first Santa Ana nuclear missile than the boats were launched. Most made it, racing desperately back for Canopus IV. Behind them hundreds of defense platforms had been destroyed, but the veritable constellation of their remains was coming into contact with the debris from scores of frigates torn into millions of pieces by their counter-salvo.

The sheer mass of fragments left radar virtually useless and the survivors on both sides clawed their way through collision after collision, seeking their remaining enemies. Coordination was impossible.

Here the _Canopus_-class dreadnoughts and _Porcupine_-class battlecruisers had the advantage with thick layers of armour and powerful engines to force their way through. But now the numbers favoured the Star League. HMS _Adam Buquoy_ tore three of the Star League's _Lola_-class destroyers apart but they had been covering the damaged SLS _Zorro_ which managed to turn around and bring its bow tubes to bear, firing its last missiles into the battered dreadnought.

Savitri's preferred flagship, the battlecruiser HMS _Concubine_, managed to smash through the remaining fighter screen of SLS _Callabero_ to bring its lasers to bear at point blank range. With no remaining nuclear weapons in its magazines, Kincaid's flagship fired back with conventional missiles. Briefly they exchanged fire before the frigate broke in half under the weapons fire and the battlecruiser drifted, engines disabled by multiple missile impacts. The crew took to their lifeboats, scuttling charges firing as they made their way towards the surface.

For a full day small actions flared up as in ones and twos the ships died. Savitri Centrella drank navy coffee and watched with eyes increasingly hollow. Amalthia Kincaid's corpse drifted along with the uncountable tons of wreckage making its slow way in the direction of Canopus IV's smokey atmosphere.

As numbers dwindled, one thing became clear: the Canopian Navy's defence fleet was no longer enough to overpower the remaining escorts.

"Pull our ships back to cover the shipyards," the Magestrix ordered. "The Star League doesn't have the ships left to batter through to destroy them _and_ to guard their transports." Savitri looked at the wrecks and then shook her head. "They've won this round, but the battle will continue." She reached out into the hologram and touched the representation of Canopus IV.

"The next battle will be fought here."

**Astarte, Salonika**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**20 June 2578**

The two hovercraft cruising across the wrecked remains of a long-abandoned strip-mine were infantry carriers – half of the fourth recon lance out of six that made up a small part the 112th (Striker) Regiment of the SLDF. The pair of LVT-4 hovertanks that formed other half of the lance, the 'shooters', were chasing up a possible contact a couple of kilometres away.

"It's too quiet," Sergeant Miracle Ilaes muttered from the cupola of the hover tank where she was scanning the surroundings with binoculars. "The Canopians _have_ to have some sort of recon screen out, so where is it?"

"Hopefully giving some other bugger some trouble," replied her driver. David Vaaraniemi was from the Terra itself, while Miracle had been born on Sierra – a frontier world almost as far removed from Canopus IV as it was from Terra.

The sergeant shook her head. "Astarte's the third most important city on Canopus – probably one of the ten largest cities in the entire Magistracy. They can't possibly have abandoned it, so there should at least be some -" A fast moving shape darting out from the cover of a mound of spoil answered her question. "Evasive!"

Dirt exploded behind the hovercraft and there was a shout of surprise from the infantry bay as David gunned the engines. The cause of the explosion – a _Locust_ light Battlemech – broke into a sprint towards them.

Miracle tried to keep her binoculars on the 'Mech. Although she'd identified the 'Mech from its slim birdlike legs and block torso, there were several clear differences from the LCT-1V models she knew from the 112th. "It's a _Locust_, 1E model!" she shouted. That meant rather than one medium laser and a pair of machine guns that it would sport four lasers: two medium and two small. Not as good against infantry but with notably more punch against vehicles such as the two APCs – the second vehicle, commanded by Corporal Sevket was wallowing in their wake.

She flicked a switch, setting her radio to transmit on the platoon frequency. "Lieutenant Halder, this is Sergeant Ilaes. We've encountered a lone Canopian _Locust_ and are under fire.

The two arm-mounted lasers on the _Locust_ turned and then the rear of Sevket's APC blew open, spilling men and equipment across the ground at fatally high speeds. The forward half of the luckless hovertank sagged and one corner dug into the ground, causing the rest to cartwheel wildly before landing upside down.

The _Locust_ raced through the debris, apparently unconcerned that in so doing it squashed two SLDF soldiers flat under one foot. Then again, in all probability neither was still alive anyway.

"Can't you go any faster!" Miracle shouted. "It's still in range."

David's voice sounded aggrieved: "We're doing a hundred and fifty!"

Miracle looked back. Offhand the _Locust_, one of the fastest Battlemechs ever developed, topped out at one hundred twenty-nine kilometres an hour under optimum conditions. Nonetheless it seemed to be managing to not only keep up but also gain ground.

There was a crackle over the radio. "Lead it our way," Lieutenant Halder ordered. "We're hull down just behind ridge four-oh-seven."

"I've got an idea!"

Miracle looked back into the infantry bay and to her shock saw daylight: the rear hatch had been opened. Then there came the distinctive thump of James Hooker's grenade launcher. The squad's heavy-weapons trooper pumped another high explosive grenade towards the _Locust_.

Explosions of earth either side of the APC testified to the difficulty of hitting a target that was moving as fast as the hovercraft, but the Locust was only a hundred metres behind. Hooker's third grenade scored a hit on the cockpit, visibly scarring the thick canopy. In response the two chin lasers spoke sharply with long, stuttering pulses. The APC lurched and slowed, a near collision averted only when the _Locust_ jerked sharply aside and ran past. Miracle hardly noticed, instead focused on the screams from inside the infantry bay and the splatter of what was obviously blood against the legs of her battledress utilities.

"Get us ouf of here!" she screamed and ducked into infantry bay, gripping handholds as she moved to prevent the less than smooth movements of the hovercraft from sending her crashing around like a pinball. As it she was glad of her helmet when one particular sharp turn at a bad moment bounced her head off the edge of the cupola.

Hooker was on the deck of the bay, and also on three of the walls. He'd taken the brunt of the laser pulses. The grenadier's loader, Ramirez – another Sierran – was also beyond help. Shards of the rear hatch were buried in his chest and his eyes glazed by death. The screams were coming from Derek Shannon, left leg a mangled wreck.

"Pass the medical kit!" demanded Jane Jericho, who had removed part of her field webbing and was improvising a tourniquet out of the one of the straps.

Although technically in command, Miracle obeyed the instruction, yanking open the box for her subordinate before looking over at the last of the six people in her squad (there should have been seven but the 112th was short-staffed and her squad short-handed.

Private Marion Emiya was lying half-on one of the side benches, face pale. One combat boot was trapped in the tangled remains of the rear of the tank. She managed a wan smile as Miracle looked her over. "Only hurts when I try to get my foot free, Sarge."

From the look of the tangle, Marion would be lucky to get her ankle out, much less her foot, but Miracle decided not to dishearten her. "Give me a moment."

Outside the door she could see the ground moving past at a frightening speed. She also couldn't see the _Locust_. "Vaaraniemi, did you lose him?"

"I don't know. I've lost visual. We're thirty seconds from the rest of the lance."

"We have multiple wounded."

"Understood, sergeant. I'll get us back to the nearest medical post as soon as I can."

Miracle tried not to think too much about the fact that just because David had lost track of the _Locust_ didn't mean that the 'Mech had lost track of them. Instead she opened up the toolbox and started looking through it to find something that she could use to pry Marion's foot out of the wreckage.

Halder's voice came from her helmet radio. "Just get home, Sergeant. We'll deal with the 'Mech."

"Watch yourself, its damn fast," she warned.

"So are we!" she heard Halder say, the roar of hovercraft engines clearly audible through his own microphone. "There he is!"

The APC jerked sharply to one side.

"He's on us!" shouted David. "Hold on! I'm -"

There was a crunch and Miracle was flung bodily across the infantry bay, colliding with Jane. Both women landed on Derek Shannon, who resumed his screaming. The back of the hovercraft tilted upwards and then slammed back down, bouncing the squad around like pinballs as the APC came to rest.

Groaning, and with the suspicion that she one of her ribs might have been broken, Miracle crawled out of the bay and was unsurprised to see a _Locust_ looking down at her, the underslung pulse lasers moving to track her. It was only on her second glance that she saw that this one lacked the scarred canopy from Hooker's grenade.

"Lieutenant," she mumbled into her radio. "There are two of them. Two _Locusts_."

There was no reply and Miracle rolled painfully to her knees, raising both hands above her head in surrender.

**Crimson, Salonika**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**22 June 2578**

When the SLDF forces moved for the capital, they did so with the ponderous power of an avalanche. Battlemechs and tanks flooded over hills stripped barren by generations of exploitation, quite incidentally destroying the sparse trees and grass that ecologists had laid down to attempt the beginnings of recovery.

The Thirty-First Division was in the lead, its single regiment of BattleMechs acting as a reserve for the brigades of tanks and mechanised infantry that fanned out ahead of the advance. Their objective was to find the defences so that the BattleMechs could force a breach.

At that point, the Thirty-Second Division, packed up behind them, would exploit the breach with a spearhead of a consolidated BattleMech brigade and two supporting brigades built around Gallant and Turhan urban tanks to handle the no doubt fierce streetfighting as they bulled through the city to seize the Crystal Palace and with it, the Magistracy.

With their intentions clear, the Magistracy's defenders rushed to position themselves in the defence of their capital. Until now the three divisions of the Royal Guards had been scattered to protect each of the three principal cities. Until the Canopian Highlanders could arrive from Astarte or the Cuirassiers from Delphi, that rested the defences of Crimson upon the soldiers of Raventhir's Iron Hand and of the Thirteenth Militia Brigade.

James Raventhir, scion of the Canopian's most famous military dynasty, had been entrusted with one of the massive _Khan_ BattleMechs that had only begun to arrive from factories safely in the Trznadel Cluster. Ten tons heavier than any other design used by the MAF's battlemech forces (in fact, tonnage equal to that of their 'Corn series battle tanks), the _Khan_ was a battlefield juggernaut but the line it was reinforcing was all too slim.

The young man tried to focus on the voice of Colonel Leona Patrice via the network of landlines that engineers had laid across the lines that the Iron Hand would be defending, and to ignore the sweat that was staining his hands as they gripped the controls.

"We have enemy units idenfitied at a range of only two thousand metres." The colonel's voice was cool and unaffected. "We get one chance at a first salvo, don't anyone waste it."

James looked again at the ground ahead of him. His _Khan_ was crouched behind the military crest of the hill, entirely masked until it stood tall and took a few steps to shoot down over the hill and into narrowing valley that the highway to Crimson followed. It was an obvious firing position, but fighters from the militia fighter regiment as well as the remaining naval aerospace squadrons were contesting the clouded sky fiercely so the SLDF could not be sure. No doubt, they moment that they did learn of it, orbital fire would be called for.

Colonel Patrice's plan therefore called for a more mobile battle, hopefully stalling the enemy vanguard until reinforcements from the Royal Guards could arrive. First Battalion, along with the battle tanks of the Iron Hand's heavy brigade and the milita artillery would strike from the western hills and Third Battalion, along with the rest of the militia and the light brigade would charge from the eastern hills.

If they failed, then all that stood between the SLDF and Crimson was the Thetis River with its broken bridges and Second Battalion to hopefully break up any crossing.

James looked left and then right. The rest of his lance – a pair of _Marauder_s and a _Striker_ – were lined up to his left. He knew Cole and Avellar (no relation to the Great House of the same name) were both veterans but Lucrezia Shihuin was just out of the Quatre. To his right were the rest of H Company, with Commander Marthe Sloan's lance of four _Balam_ looking very similar to their _Marauder_ progenitors. Beyond them were the scout lance, mixing _Stinger_ and _Phoenix Hawk_s.

"All green, Lucky?" he asked the novice mechwarrior, surprised his voice wasn't shaking. When she affirmed readiness James enquired the same of the rest of his lance before switching up to the company net. "Commander Sloan, my lance is fully ready."

"Good to know, Ensign. And your lance, Jeraldine?"

James rolled his eyes. Sloane probably hadn't even checked her own lance. She and Ensign Jeraldine St Clair were old hands, with plenty of experience, but they were also not notable for spit and polish. While that wasn't the be all and end all, it did mean that they occasionally came off as sloppy which was why neither was likely to rise above company command.

What was in their favour was that they were good combat officers. The Royal Guards might parade more often than most of the Magistracy Army, but that wasn't their first duty.

And at least thinking about that had taken his mind off the coming action.

"Range to marker one-twenty is now seven hundred metres," advised an anonymous voice, followed by Colonel Patrice: "All units, advance and open fire!"

James brought the _Khan_ upright in the same movement that started it walking up above the line of the hill. He felt the 'Mech adjusting itself as the neurohelmet took directions from his inner ear, forestalling the possibility of overbalancing. Between that and keeping an eye on his lance it was not until the assault 'Mech was standing fully exposed that he really took in the SLDF forces ranged ahead of him.

There were dozens of them, many armoured personnel carriers and scout cars forming the recon screen of the oncoming division. Coldly, James brought his crosshairs across a platoon of wheeled personnel carriers. As the crosshairs flashed gold over each, he triggered one extended-range particle cannon and then moved to the next target, firing all four of his weapons in turn. Two shots, the first and third, hit home and the small infantry carriers came to a halt, their guts – and occupants – torn apart by the powerful weapons. Now he was sweating for reasons other than nerves.

"Good shooting, Raven'."

James turned and saw that the rest of his lance had let him fire first. That was smart – their PPCs were older, shorter range weapons with no more reach than the autocannons that each of the three BattleMechs sported. Waiting not only let them take their cue from him, it brought the advancing SLDF forces into their own range.

Only one of their PPCs hit home, with Avellar tearing a strip of armour from a hovertank without slowing the machine. Cole turned her autocannon towards the other Marauder pilot's target and both fired cluster rounds, as if taking offense at the insult of the tank surviving the hit. One of the shots – impossible to tell which – ripped several gaping holes in the side-skirt of the hovertank, sending it slewing into a spin until it came to rest. The crew, probably quite dizzy, did not disembark immediately.

"Take that tank's turret out, Lucky," James ordered, implicitly warning the two _Marauder_ jocks to let the newbie take the shot. He moved his crosshairs and fired his PPCs again, this time slamming all four shots towards the same target, a helicopter trying to dart up over the hill to find out what else was lurking there. Unfortunately none of the shots struck.

In the distance James saw the distant dust-clouds marking advancing Merkava and Marsden tanks suddenly gain animation as artillery shells and missiles began to pound their path. The Magistracy Army allocated each brigade a full artillery battalion and Colonel Patrice was making full use of having effectively a regiment of self-propelled artillery at her disposal.

Hig above the battle, contrails and explosions marked where the battle for the sky was raging.

A squadron of _Tomahawk_ aerospace fighters were chasing down their own number of _Tseen She_. The Canopian strike fighters weren't tough enough to take that sort of pounding and two of them came apart almost immediately under the lasers of the SLDF fighters.

Savitri Centrella didn't like seeing her pilots cut out of the sky. In fact she took it very much personally. Fortunately she was in a position to do something about it and with a terse order to the squadron supporting her, she yanked back on her control stick and jammed the throttle of her new _Grondr_ wide open.

The Magestrix had traded in her _Lightning_ for the newer design as soon as it became available. It was bigger, faster and more heavily armed than anything she'd ever flown. And except for the squadron following her, almost all of them had been destroyed in the last few days. Fortunately the factories were a safe distance away and more would be coming.

Centring her crosshairs over a _Tomahawk_, Savitri triggered her missile launchers. There were three of them, and all had managed to lock onto the medium fighter so forty-five fire-and-forget missiles leapt from the racks and smashed into the underside of the smaller fighter. Then a second volley, this one from Savitri's wingman did the same. The _Tomahawk_, trailing smoke, broke off and the Magestrix let it go, blasting up past the altitude of the SLDF fighter's wingman and then cutting thrust briefly, kicking the rudder to make a controlled tumble as she did in order to bring herself around to drop down upon the other _Tomahawk_.

This one managed to twist aside and avoid missile lock from Savitri's wingman but the Magestrix was another matter, stripping almost half a ton of armour off one wing with her lasers and then slamming another volley of missiles into it. Explosions tore through the left flank of the Tomahawk and it went into a spiralling descent, the pilot ejecting when it became clear that there was no saving the machine.

Glancing around the radar Savitri saw no other nearby threats to the _Tseen She_ squadron and plunged her _Grondr_ down towards the deck, the other fighters following her like a flock of birds. "Blackwing to squadron: damage?" she enquired.

"None."

"None."

"Light armour damage. One missile launcher out."

"None."

"None."

She nodded her head slightly inside the cockpit and debated for a second whether to send the damaged _Grondr_ back to Crimson for repairs. No, she decided. Never give an order that won't be obeyed: none of her squadron would retreat unless she personally did so as well. "Fine. Stay with me, we're going to give the _Tseen She_ cover.

The five surviving conventional fighters had regrouped and were returning to their mission. Within moments each of the militia fighters had an escorting aerospace fighter, Savitri and her wingman doubling up to cover one of them.

Beneath the fighters, SLDF forces were battering at Raventhir's Iron Hand. The defenders had already thrown in their reserves to counter the Thirty-First Division's BattleMechs and they were holding, for now. The five _Tseen She_ dove across the lines of an SLDF 'Mech company, strafing the ranks with their lasers. Behind them, the _Grondr_ – less suited to this tactic – focused instead on the helicopters that had been scouting for the little force. Neither stood any chance at all against the sudden volleys of missiles that swatted them easily out of the sky.

As they flew past, Savitri could see that only one of the SLDF 'Mechs had fallen, but all bore scarred armour from the attacks, They'd be weaker and more vulnerable when they encountered Canopian forces, which was good enough for now.

The attack had not been without its price for the aircraft however. Laser fire from _Helepolis_ and _Kyudo_ 'Mechs had slashed deeply into the _Tseen She_, two of which were trailing ominous smoke.

"This is Blackwing to the militia fighters," the Magestrix ordered, knowing that the militia would have recognised the solid black paint that covered the left wing of her _Grondr_. While her squadron all adopted the same paintjob in an attempt to mask her precise location, everyone in the CNR knew that the Magestrix had flown with those markings since the Battle of Borgan's Rift. Some said it was in mourning for the Canopians killed under her command, while others identified it as a kill marker for the Death Commandos who died when the Magestrix's wings targeted their dropships with nuclear warheads. "Break off for repairs, we'll escort you back."

The 'air-breathers' obediently scurried back in the direction of their support forces with a quiet: "Many thanks, Blackwing." Rather than operating out of a fixed air-field that would be a relatively easy target for orbital bombardment the militia were instead using their craft's VTOL capacity to hide the fighters in relatively small paved areas of Crimson, repairs carried out by the same convoys that refuelled and reloaded them.

For now the aerospace fighters, with their far more demanding logistics were using the underground defense hangers. Savitri was aware that it was a luxury that could not last: sooner or later the SLDF would locate all of the entrances. The two that had been discovered so far had been subjected to orbital bombardments that had effectively closed them for use, in one case with a mixed squadron of Reivers and Thunderbirds inside. Those fighters were as much out of the fight as if they had been destroyed: it would take days to dig them out and any attempt would be painfully obvious.

**Crimson, Salonika**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**23 June 2578**

James drained the last dregs from the bottled energy drink. The liquid was the first refreshment he'd had in hours. Despite the arrival of the Cuirassiers and the Highlanders on the SLDF's flanks they were continuing to advance and the battered Iron Hand regiments were having trouble even slowing them down, much less stopping them.

At midnight the Mechs and tanks of the Thirty-First Division had paused, clearly exhausted. However, they had done so not only to rest but also to let the relatively fresh Thirty-Second Division through their ranks.

More then three hundred battlemechs was more – far more - than the weary Raventhir's Iron Hand could stop, especially since their artillery – ammunition expended – had been in mid-retreat to a supply point.

"Army Command, this is Captain Raventhir," he reported. "I have a mixed battlegroup south of Hill Seventy-Five. Can you give me a vector back to the rest of the regiment."

For a long moment there was nothing but the snap and hiss of static.

Finally: "Captain Raventhir, can you confirm that you are at Hill Seventy-Five, not Seventeen-Five?"

James's face reddened. Seventeen-Five was a hill more or less between Crimson and the bridges over the Thetis River – probably where the rest of the defense forces were rallying. Seventy-Five was considerably to the east. Faced with a full battalion of Star League _Banshee_, _Thunderbolt_s and _Guillotine_s, he'd broken contact to rally the remnants of his force: less than a company of survivors from Third Battalion, together with fewer than twenty Pegasus hovertanks from the militia and a company of Minotaur medium tanks from one of the Iron Hand tank regiments.]

"Yes," he confirmed tightly. "Seven-Five."

"Wait one, Captain."

Infuriated at the implied slight: that he had run away from the fight, rather than rejoining the next defense line, James closed his microphone and swore out loud.

"James," a different voice said over the channel. A woman, voice familiar to him. Familiar to essentially any Canopian.

He switched the microphone on. "Yes, Magestrix."

"Glad you're holding on, cousin," she said warmly. "Even more so that you're right where I need someone. I have a mission for you."

"Your highness, I'll do what I can but my troops are short of ammo and rest."

He could imagine her nodding. "Understood. We're going to try to send you ammo, but rest will have to wait. The Star League has built a pontoon bridge across the Thetis to move their tanks and supporting equipment over the river."

"You want me to destroy it?" Why not an air strike, he wondered.

"Nothing so easy. The Cuirassiers and the Highlanders can ford the river with their 'Mechs but most of their infantry and tanks will need a bridge and we demolished the others trying to slow the SLDF down. I need those forces to finish the SLDF before they can reach the centre of Crimson. I need that bridge intact."

"Sir, one ortillery shot..."

"I'm ordering our warships to give you cover. It won't last long but hopefully long enough." Unspoken was that the remaining warships would be badly outnumbered.

In the end an airdrop wasn't possible but a handful of hovertrucks raced out from a nearby militia depot, carrying pallets of long and short range missiles. What little autocannon ammunition remained would need to be husbanded carefully.

The only other survivor of James' lance ran behind him as the force ran down the road towards the location of the bridge. Lucrezia 'Lucky' Shihuin had lived up to her nickname. The _Striker_'s autocannon was out of action but she still had her lasers and PPC. Even more fortunately she'd forgotten to dump her ammunition bin so their half-empty contents had been loaded quickly into the magazines of the other _Striker_ and the force's one _Marauder_.

"All units," James reminded them. "We have to take the bridge intact – so when we charge feel free to shout about destroying the bridge on your loudspeakers. Maybe they'll be gullible enough to 'protect' it from us."

He looked around one last time. They were ready. "Alright, let's do this." The force took their speed from him but that was only really holding back the Pegasus hovertanks and they would be unleashed soon enough. That didn't mean that he was delaying and the force that was spread out in a loose wedge behind his _Khan_ were moving at more than fifty kilometres an hour when they crested the hill above the bridge.

"Cavalry!" James shouted, distantly noting contrails in the sky above him: "Charge!"

Seventeen Pegasus hovertanks roared past him, aiming for the riverbank: their mission was to take control of the opposite bank. The near bank and the scratch battalion that must be all that was left of Thirty-First Division's BattleMech forces, were James' problem to deal with.

Miles behind him, tens of thousands of Canopian citizens filed through their local police stations and other official buildings accepting laser rifles, spare power packs and the armband that – in theory – made them uniformed combatants under the Ares Conventions. They too could see the contrails rising.

In theory all Canopians did military service in their teens but most provided their national service in non-combatant roles. Basic self-defense, which in the periphery included the use of a rifle, was universal however. There had been no official recall: just an announcement that volunteers would be welcomed.

The Support Corps personnel handing out the weapons tried not to think too hard about the results of the SLDF's vengeful troopers fighting their way deep enough into Crimson that armed civilians were needed.

The contrails were the remaining Canopian aerospace squadrons making for the orbitals. Savitri and the other three surviving Blackwings were near the middle of the little formation, their _Grondr_ straining to reach escape velocity, burdened as each they were with a pair of five kiloton nuclear weapons.

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**24 June 2578**

Air defences were alerted as soon as the first radar signatures indicating that wings of aerospace fighters were making their descent upon the Pacific North-west.

Ground stations hurled missiles upwards while discreet turrets around the Court of the Star League brought autocannon up to cover the skies and lances of the garrison sallied forth from their underground hangers to provide a last layer of defence: _Rifleman_ and _Archer_ BattleMechs. While fire blazed filled the sky, Nicholas Cameron marched his lance to cover the seaward approaches: reports from the radar stations suggested that the formations of fighters were descending over the Pacific and would presumably be making a low approach on the Court from that direction.

"How many are coming in at us, sir?" asked Sergeant Hernandez, correctly presuming that Nicholas would be well informed.

The young Cameron ran his targeting systems across the horizon. "Depends how many the fixed defences bring down. The estimate was five aero-regiments – perhaps three hundred – entering the atmosphere. Our own fighters will need as much support as we can give them." He didn't bother to point out that there were only a battalion of BattleMechs to protect the Court of the Star League. A conflict between aerospace fighters and a ground fortress was always unpredictable.

A crackle of jamming interrupted the tactical net for a moment. A few moments later, the familiar voice of the defense co-ordinator came across. "Our communications may lapse, soldiers. Enemy fighters have been engaged well short of the shore but it's estimated that there may be as many as eighty enemy fighters operating below the level of radar coverage. Be on guard."

"Eighty!" Hernandez exclaimed. "Well it's better than three hundred!"

"Don't think of it as eighty hostiles, think of it as eighty targets," suggested Nicholas with dark humour. He opened the covers on his _Archer_'s missile launchers, glad of the advanced heatsinks that the 'Mechs of the defense battalion had been refitted with. Where most battlemechs of this class would occasionally need to cut back their rate of fire to cool down, the SLDF's new models could sustain their full firepower as long as their ammunition lasted. Of course that would mean that they would run through that ammunition faster. "Defence command, this is Franklin Lead. Please advise as to the nearest resupply point."

"Understood Franklin Lead. There are crews mov- ... –hatch four-t ... alpha ..."

Nicholas tapped his helmet. "Come back, Defence Command?"

There was no reply but the whine and spit of static. Jamming again! He switched to use his loudspeakers. "Someone's close enough to jam our radios. Report any sightings immediately."

There were similar shouts from other officers resorting to the same means and Nicholas brought his _Archer_ down behind one of the sturdily built buildings above the beaches, not caring that one foot crushed the rear of a car that had been left parked there.

A call went up and he looked to see a _Rifleman_ bringing its arms up to point out to sea. Tracers rippled outwards and following them Nicholas saw the enemy.

They were low enough that their wake was visible in the water.

Lightning lashed back from the oncoming fighters towards the shoreline and the _Rifleman_ reeled backwards, armour erupting away from the heavy BattleMech's chest.

Nicholas locked his crosshairs over one of the oncoming fighters and fired everything. The lasers in each arm of his _Archer_ lashed out and he thought he saw parts of the fuselage deforming under hits. Then all forty of the long range missiles from his salvo rushed past his sight picture and enough hit that he briefly lost visual contact before the fighter continued, clearly damaged but undeterred.

"They're going to overshoot!" he called out, turning his _Archer_ around. "Catch them on the way out!"

Then on the compressed display that ran along the top of his cockpit HUD – a three hundred and sixty degree view compressed into only one hundred and sixty – he saw the fighter and it's brethren appear to come apart in mid-air. Engine pods cut out and then dropped down, almost like... legs? Was this intentional?

All doubt fell away as the engines roared to life again and the fighters came almost to a complete stop, their distorted – almost vulture-like – shapes descending over the beach. And the defenders, having turned around in expectation of firing at the vulnerable rear of the the aerospace fighters had instead exposed their own backs to the enemy.

Outnumbered two to one, with the Land-Air Mechs of the Filtvet Commonwealth Marine Corps concentrating on the notoriously thin-armoured _Rifleman_, the defense battalion lost a dozen casualties in as many seconds.

"Fallback into the city!" ordered Major Siembieda a moment before his ammunition, stored against his _Rifleman_'s reactor, detonated – spreading parts of both 'Mech and Major across the beach.

Nicholas turned his _Archer_ to follow the order but Hernandez's 'Mech thrust out one arm, pushing him in another direction. "Not that way sir. You're heading for the supply point – hatch four-two alpha. It's the fastest way to get you under cover."

"Goddamn you Hernandez, I'm an officer of the SLDF!"

"No sir. You're the Director-General's heir and there isn't a man here who doesn't have orders for what to do if the fight went against us today."

**Crimson, Salonika**

**Canopus IV, Magistracy of Canopus**

**24 June 2578**

The particle cannon punched through the damaged SLDF Kyudo's fusion reactor dead centre. A moment later silver fire engulfed the 'Mech and James backed his _Khan_ up another pace, turning his head to look for another target.

The PPC in his 'Mech's right arm was its only remaining weapon and the armour beneath the many rents in his armour was stained with the coolant fluid that had leaked out like blood. A _Warhammer_ drew his attention to it by blasting the last armour covering the weapon with it's own PPCs.

Much to James' surprise the weapon status remained green and he fired a second time. The shot shattered the smaller 'Mech's right shoulder, dropping the arm below to the ground as well as melting half the missile launcher that rose up from the joint.

Without hesitating, the _Warhammer_ raised its other arm, pointing the muzzle of the Donal PPC directly at the scarred faceplate covering James' cockpit.

The young Raventhir started in squarely into the darkness inside, wondering if he was imagining the glow. I guess it's my turn now, he thought.

Then more than ninety tons of aerospace fighter hit the _Warhammer_ like a bulldozer. The blunt wedge cut the heavy 'Mech virtually in two and then whatever dregs of fuel remained within the _Grondr_'s tanks exploded. James watched numbly as one black wing spun up into the sky and then crashed down to the torn up ground beside him.

Only then did he look up and see the parachute unfurling in the sky above him and off to his right. The pilot must have ejected after setting up a collision course he realised.

A series of explosions ripped through the SLDF forces and James glanced around to see a lance of _Bicorn_s crawling over the bridge, which was rocking alarmingly from the recoil as the main guns hurled two hundred kilogram shells up the slope. Behind them, he could see more heavy tanks lining up to risk the pontoons: the heavy tank regiments had arrived at last. A second bridge - this one of cannon shells, gauss rifle slugs and the heavy missiles being fired across the river. They weren't hitting much – the range was too long for accurate fire – but they were an eloquent promise of what the SLDF could expect once they had crossed.

The disintegtration of a _Merkava_ that was unfortunate enough to be caught between the impact of two of the cutdown artillery shells being thrown by the _Bicorn_s apparently wasn't a hint to back off. Then again, it was also showing them what they were trying to keep from crossing the river so it wasn't too surprising that instead they pressed forwards in a desperate attempt to break down the bridge.

James estimated the point where the ejected pilot would land and moved forward to shield them from the attack. His little force was perhaps half the size that it had been and few of the survivors were in better shape than his _Khan_. His PPC tore the arm off a _Phoenix Hawk_ and he slammed into the smaller 'Mech a moment later, the impact sending it to the ground. Without pause James trampled over it, driving one foot directly through its shoulder to destroy its remaining arm.

He had misjudged slightly the point to which the parachute was descending – perhaps the wind had moved. The pilot landed briefly upon the arm of his _Khan_, then slipped off, her parachute flaring slightly, slowing the landing to a survivable one.

Behind him the Bicorns were rumbling off the bridge – pockmarked with damage as it was the SLDF had built it well enough to handle their weight – too well for their own good.

James crouched the _Khan_ over the pilot. "Are you hurt?" he asked over his loudspeakers.

The woman stretched out each limb in turn, then shook her helmeted head and glanced around. She adjusted her helmet.

"Don't tell me that it is you, James Raventhir?" she asked, her voice coming from his radio. "Really, I half-expected you to be dead by now."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, your highness."

"Oh, don't confuse expectations with desires. I'm rather afraid most of those who've fought with me today have not been so fortunate." There was a darkness in the voice of Savitri Centrella. "I guess you must be a bad penny, just like me."

"And above us?"

"Don't concern yourself. The worst you need concern yourself with is the chance that fragments of their ships may land on our heads." She looked around. "Please let me into your cockpit, I need to use your radio to get in touch with my Command Center."

James lowered one arm, opening the manipulator so that she could stand upon in. From the stiffness of Savitri's movements he guessed that her earlier assertion that she was uninjured had been overly optimistic – if nothing else she must have taken quite a bruising during her ejection. Even so, when he raised the manipulator up to his cockpit she scrambled easily enough in behind him.

Not a mechwarrior, it took a moment for the Magestrix to unfold the jumpseat behind James' command couch and locate the headset. Then she adjusted the communications panel. "General Tellaverde. This is Magestrix Savitri Centrella. Authenticate my voice print."

There was a brief pause. "I'm ready to do so."

"Power is a drug. Its addiction is the cause of all evils."

James heard relief in the voice of the commander of the Royal Guards. "There was concern that you might have..."

"Too many have already. It's possible that I'm the only survivor of the entire battle above us. What is the situation down here?"

"The Highlanders and Cuirassiers are squeezing them like toothpaste, your highness. But that's pressing them against the Iron Hand and that's..."

"Yes. It's possible to ask too much. But we have one more strategm to try: it's drastic and radical but let's try talking to them. Can you retransmit my signal on all channels?"

"Of course. You might even think that we're in the media capital of known space. We'll have you going out to everyone in two minutes."

Savitri's smile spread at the joke. "Then let's do so. Because I have something to say."

"What are you going to tell them?" James asked.

"Well... I thought I'd start with the truth. It has a certain novelty."

"Soldiers of the Star League."

"You are surrounded on all sides."

"On this scarred ground stand the armies and the militia of Canopus."

"Above you, the skies have been scoured of your comrades.

"Beneath your very feet the rich world of Canopus rejects your presence."

"And in the hearts of mankind your cause stands ruined for as we speak the fleets and legions of the periphery have brought our rejection to Terra itself."

"In recognition of your defeat, I, Savitri Centralla: pilot, mother, leader, offer you this day the chance to surrender with honour. To return to your homes without further sacrifice. To lower your weapons and march from Canopus beneath your own banners as proud soldiers who have accomplished all that could possibly have been done in the impossible quest that you were sent out upon."

"But if you feel that you cannot or will not accept it then I shall remind you of wisdom six hundred and seventy seven years old:"

"That the Woman that God gave him

Every fibre of her frame

Proves her launched for one sole issue

Armed and engine for the same

And to serve that sole issue

Lest the generations fail

The female of the species

Must be deadlier than the male"

**Unity City, North America**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**24 June 2578**

"Look at my city, in flames." Ian Cameron's face was hollow as he watched the view from the surviving cameras above. Never in his worst nightmares had he expected to see SLDF _Archer_s being brought down by Periphery Battlemechs on the streets of Unity City.

A general touched his shoulder. "Sir, we have reports that your son is back under cover. I recommend he be sent to the escape submarine. We can have you all at the Bering Tunnel in twenty-four hours and in Geneva the day after."

Ian hesitated and then nodded. "Agreed. Shandra..."

"Don't even think about some kind of noble gesture," she warned him. "The Hegemony needs your leadership."

After I've done so well by them? Ian thought darkly but instead he nodded his head. "I need a few things from my personal safe. I suggest that you collect anything you want to bring with you."

The hatch moved slowly due to damage done to the frame, but Ian Cameron was able to force it open with his shoulder. He was aware that it would be only moments before his security caught up with him – Shandra would have realised by now that he was not in his own room within the deep bunker complex, nor on his way to the escape submarine waiting in its dock to carry him away under the Pacific.

According to his recollection, the hatch should have opened into the backwall of one of the many public conveniences that discreetly dotted the ornamental gardens. Like most such buildings the windows were small and high on the wall, but daylight flooded across him as he exited. The western half of the room was simply gone and the First Lord of the Star League looked out at the panoramic ruin that he'd intended to be the capital city of the entire human race.

Surprisingly few of the buildings were in flames, but other than the damage caused by the brief battle between the periphery landing force most of the destruction had been systematic as the 'flying battlemechs' that had landed were deliberately smashing down buildings with their fists. Ian still didn't know what to call the machines. What sort of twisted mind would create a hybrid of aerospace fighter and battlemech?

Fortunately for his peace of mind he could see no bodies, although the wreckage of at least two SLDF battlemechs made it clear that the brief battle for control of the Court of the Star League had not been entirely bloodless.

Gathering his resolve and fuelled in part by anger at the deliberate vandalism, Ian walked out into full view of the 'Mechs that were tearing at the city – _his_ city! – like a pack of carrion birds.

At first, it seemed that none had seen him. And certainly a lone man in dress uniform would hardly seem like a threat to them. Nonetheless one of them broke off from tearing down one of the Bureau of Star League Affairs buildings and bounded across two hundred metres of part towards him in a single easy flare of jump jets. In mid-air the machine twisted and turned upon itself like a child's toy and what landed was not the bird-like shape that had taken off but a more humanoid BattleMech that looked fairly similar to a _ Phoenix Hawk_.

He was fairly sure that one of the muzzles aimed almost-but-not-quite at him must be an anti-personnel weapon of some kind – a laser rather than a machinegun, which was vaguely interesting but not exactly pertinent to his immediate concerns.

Ian looked around again and then raised both hands slowly above his head.

"I am Director-General of the Terran Hegemony," he called out, speaking slowly and clearly. He had to choke down a sob before he could manage the next words. "I am here to surrender. Take me to your leader."

**TCS **_**Samantha Calderon**_**, Orbit**

**Terra, Terran Hegemony**

**25 June 2578**

After a shuttle – Canopian-built - had rushed down to Unity City to take custody of him, Ian Cameron had been surprised to find himself mostly left alone. He'd been ushered into a guarded VIP room aboard the battleship – a room that had nothing more than privacy to recommend it – and been permitted to call on a steward although a squad of marines were posted in easy reach of his door.

For a while he'd waited, pacing back and forth the across the cramped compartment, expecting to be called before an admiral or a diplomatic team. When it became evident that this was not evident he had removed his shoes and tried to nap.

Sleep eluded him. Had Nicholas and Shandra reached the submarine safely? Were the Taurians and their allies landing elsewhere on Terra?

By Ian's watch it had been thirteen hours since his arrival when the door opened to reveal a young man in the dress uniform of an AFFS junior officer. "Director-General Cameron, please accompany me."

A sharp look from Ian matched the officer's features to the distorted face he'd seen through a helmet visor during the hour he was watched over by his captors on the grond. "You're the one who I surrendered to."

"Yes sir. You're in my custody, technically, for a few more minutes." The man gestured towards the door. "Now if you would please."

It was not a question or an invitation, but at least it was being phrased as one rather than as a demand. Ian complied and was ushered down a hallway and up a cramped flight of stairs – the ship was not under thrust at the moment, making it a relatively easy ascent – to a compartment little larger than that he had left. Rather than a small bunk and desk, this one had a table surrounded by fixed benches. Two men and two women sat on one side, Ian was ushered to the other.

"Sir, I present to you Director General Ian Cameron of the Terran Hegemony."

"Thank you, lieutenant," replied the taller of the men – a lanky Federated Suns officer with swarthy mediterranean features. No, not Federated Suns – the sword on his insignia was backed by a star field rather than the sunburst. This then, was the officer representing the Suns' bastard offspring, Filtvet. "I accept responsibility for him."

The other three ran the gamut of appearances – two Taurian Admirals, the man red-faced and middle-aged but with a look of command, the woman petite with a dramatic red tattoo around her eyes; and the last woman in Canopian blues and evidently crammed in behind the table with some difficulty – Ian estimated her to be the tallest person there and none of the men were small.

"Director-General," the Filtvet officer began the introductions. "I am Admiral Jeffrey B. Global, the Arch-Duchess' Champion. This is Admiral of the Fleet Garius Cain and Admiral Rukia Fukuda of the Taurian Concordat Navy and this is Admiral Stephanie Carringtion of the Royal Canopian Navy."

"Canopian Navy Royal," Carrington corrected with the air of someone who didn't really expect the reminder to accomplish anything.

"Yes. The Canopian Royal Navy. My apologies."

Carrington glared at Global who appeared quite ignorant of the fact he'd mangled the name of her service for a second time. "Let's be about this."

Cain leant forwards over the table, locking his eyes onto Ian. "We are authorised to represent our governments in preliminary discussion of terms for your surrender. Ambassadors from all the Periphery states will be here within weeks to finalise them."

"I understand."

"You offered surrender to Lieutenant Sopwith. Did you speak for your own person or for the Hegemony."

"I spoke then for myself and will now speak for the Terran Hegemony."

"Very well. The Taurian Concordat offers the Terran Hegemony the opportunity to surrender conditionally. The terms we offer are that the Terran Hegemony will renounce in general and in detail the Star League and all organisations and treaties associated with the Star League. The Hegemony will also pay reparations to the Federated Suns for the economic attacks launched upon them between 2555 and 2567. The Terran Hegemony will cede all rights to those worlds currently shared with the Federated Suns to First Prince Alexander Davion and to those worlds currently shared with the Capellan Confederation to Chancellor Ursula Liao. The Terran Hegemony Armed Forces, as reconstituted following the dissolution of the Star League Defense Force may not exceed one million armed soldiers nor one hundred megatons of shipping. The Taurian Concordat will be granted basing rights within the Terran Hegemony for the next ninety-nine years as guarantor of your security and of your adherence to these terms."

Ian looked Cain in the eye. "I refuse."

"Director-General, you do not have the luxury of clinging to the Star League."

Carrington cleared her throat. "What conditions are you offering to surrender under, Director-General?" Then she held up one hand. "And if you're planning on bargaining due to the fleet you sent to attack Canopus IV, we're aware of it and at last report they were heavily engaged with the defences. No order you give now will change the outcome and we can reinforce far more rapidly than you can."

"Nonetheless," Ian began, trying not to let his disappointment show. "The terms that you're asking for are unacceptable. Without the Star League the Hegemony will be surrounded by hostile states, including your allies the Federated Suns. It's all very well to promise that you'll come to our defence but the Hegemony is a long way from the Concordat and a long way down your line of priorities."

"Our word is good," Cain declared, red-faced.

The Director-General shook his head. "I will renounce the Star League – the grand experiment has failed, I admit that – and surrender the shared worlds. You can have the basing rights as well – I'm not so naive as to believe that you'll trust us immediately. But if we can't rebuild our defences then you might as well start carving up the Hegemony now."

"Sounds good to me, let's do that."

Global coughed. "I think there's some room for negotiation, Admiral Cain. Do you not agree, Admiral Carringon?"

"I do. And I think we can speak confidently here for the rest of the Periphery states."

Rukia Fukuda cleared her throat. "Admiral, let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is just a preliminary discussion."

Cain scowled furiously. "Perhaps you're right. We'll let the diplomats discuss this." He rose to his feet. "I'll let the three of you deal with it until they get here."

As he was sitting at the far end of the table, the other officers had to stand up to let him leave – in fact Carrington actually had to step into the gangway to make space.

"Admiral Cain is perhaps not temprementally suited to negotiating," Admiral Fukuda offered in excuse once they had resumed their seats. "Perhaps you would consider a limit if your neighbours also agreed to one?"

Ian steepled his fingers. "A higher limit perhaps."


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Fort Jaime, Santiago**

**Outworlds Alliance**

**4 July 2578**

Natasha Kerensky had dyed her hair blonde at some point in the last year. It whipped behind her like a tail as she walked into Jaime Wolf's office without knocking. He had to wonder if she might plan on getting a catgirl biomod from the Canopians at some point. Such a change would be anathema to most of the Dragoons, smacking of genecaste to the old crew and of outright decadence to the more recent recruits but that might simply encourage Natasha.

"They've made it official Jaime." Her voice was softer and friendlier than usual – most of her troops would have found it unrecognisable. "The Star League has surrendered and the individual states are making peace."

Seated behind a cluttered desk, Jaime Wolf nodded acknowledgement but his eyes were directed at something far away. Though a small man, his presence had always conveyed an aura of strength and confidence but the last year and a half had been a strain in ways not apparent to outsiders.

"So it ends," he said out loud. "And perhaps so it begins."

"You can't be still clinging to the idea that they're still out there, can you?" Natasha leant forwards over the desk. "The survey reports are pretty clear: once you get out past the Outworlds Alliance or any of the periphery states you find the stars and planets of the twenty-sixth century, not the thirty first. There's nothing else out there."

"We don't know why it happened. Nor do we know that other regions may not have been affected."

"Jaime, let it go! The mission is over! We should get back to strength and go kick some ass!"

He laughed, tension flowing out of him. "Honestly, Natasha, there's nothing I'd like more. But we need to know for certain. We've still got three regiments and five warships – that's enough to take out another contract but I'm sending an expedition out to the Pentagon."

"Hey, you're not sending me! That's a two year round trip!"

"I wouldn't be so bold. No, Mackenzie can lead it – he could do with the experience, and we can give him a good crew of veterans."

Natasha nodded. "Feels like just yesterday he was only knee high. You're getting old, Jaime."

"Not that old. Or is that a subtle hint that you'd like an assignment hunting bandits?"

"Anything but that," she said feelingly. "Who's hiring?"

"There's no central hall like Galatea, although there do seem to be a lot of mercenaries under contract – mostly retirees from House Militaries when they downsized to join the Star League and hired on when they realised there would be a war in the Periphery."

"You're thinking of hiring on with the Inner Sphere?"

"Possibly. Hehiro Kurita's rebuilding his forces and I'm sure Kevin Steiner or Henry Gram would be more than glad to hire us."

"Ugh! Another civil war?" protested Natasha. It was as close as she was going to get to reminding Jaime of the losses they had taken at the hands of Anton Marik.

Jaime leant back in his chair. "It's the most action that we're likely to see. With the way that wars are going, I'm not sure that any mercenary contracts better than security details will be available in future."

"Seriously?"

"Warships won this war. Given how expensive they are, I'm not convinced a mercenary fleet is going to be feasible and Battlemechs..."

"That's..." Natasha looked shocked. "But..."

"Feeling old?" He looked weary. "Maybe it's time to follow Stark's example. We could probably seize part of the Rim Worlds if we came to an agreement with Grimm and O'Reilly."

"What a depressing thought. Going back to the Clans might be better than that. What are you going to tell them if they are there?"

"I'm still thinking about that. You know what they're like."

"Yeah. The Crusaders will explode when they hear what happened to the Star League and the Wardens..."

"If the Clans come here, if they invade the Inner Sphere... you realise that the latest Canopian battlemechs are _more_ advanced than the 'Mechs that Kerlin Ward gave us data for the last time we reported in. And then there's the warships..."

Natasha whistled. "You think they'll come?"

"Sooner or later, yes, I think that they will. And that's going to be a rude awakening for a lot of trueborn warriors. The Snow Ravens will be appalled: their fleet is dwarfed by even the smallest state here."

"Couldn't they build a similar force?"

Jaime shook his head. Natasha could see new lines on his face. "A concerted effort by all the Clans - and you know how unlikely that is – would have trouble equalling the resources of even small fry like the Outer Reaches. And if reports are correct then the rimwards states are going to be forming up into opposing alliances – Calderon wants to lock the Federated Suns together with the Outworlds Alliance, Tortuga and Filtvet."

The Black Widow nodded her understanding. "And since Centrella trusts everyone's favourite nuke-lover about as far as she could throw him, she's trying to get the Marians and House Marik to side with her. Ursula Liao will _love_ that. Caught between two warring factions. Couldn't happen to a nicer House."

"Be fair. She's not one of the crazy ones." Jaime stretched out. "You know, maybe I won't send Mackenzie. If the Clans _are_ out there then they'll take delicate handling and it's a bit unfair to drop that on his shoulders. He can look after Alpha Regiment instead."

"Whoa, you think he's ready to look after the whole Dragoons."

"Perhaps not, but a maybe a regiment. I can find someone else to look after the Dragoons for me." A smile crossed his face, but it didn't relieve Natasha – it was too mischievous for that. "I know just the person..."

"Ohhhh, no. Not me."

"...Galaxy Commander."

**Fini**

**Omake (by Chris O'Farrell)**:

**A History of the Star League, the 'Nine and a Half Hours' footnote**

The last gasp of the Star League in _two universes_as it happened was the rather short lived 'Clan Invasion' of the early-2580's, where a deep periphery society of former-SLDF soldiers who had fled the uptime collapse of the Star League in the early 2800s had rebuilt a radically different society in the darkness of space and belatedly woke up to the incredible shift in space and time when a Wolf Dragoon jumpship arrived at their worlds.

It would only be later that Jaime Wolf admitted the Dragoons had orignally been a scouting force for these Clans in the 31st Century as a prelude to a possible invasion, albeit one that had turned against their masters to protect the Inner Sphere. How exactly these Clans could miss the universe change so radically around them for so long still stuns some observers; apparently whenever members of the so-called 'Scientist Caste' in this Militocracy tried to tell the Warriors, they were threatened with bodily harm and told to get back to work on genetic engineering.

Whatever the case, the Clans' answer was swift. Astonishingly, while almost every Clan accepted without question the idea that the Star League had returned and then fallen, seizing upon the events of the last half century as an excuse to proceed to the Terran Hegemony and 'ally' with them to 'restore the Star League', incredibly few of them took seriously the evidence the Dragoons had brought with them of the incredible technological strives the Inner Sphere had made in the 31st Century, advances the Periphery had brought back with them and had since spread.

Dogmatically insisting that the various states of the twenty-sixth century would be no match for their hordes of advanced OmniMechs and Warships, the sixteen remaining Clans marched confidently forth towards the Inner Sphere en masse, an army beyond anything Nicholas Kerensky could have ever have dreamed when he laid down his society. (The seventeenth clan, Clan Wolf, claim to have suffered a navigational mishap and returned home to re-establish their bearings. Apparently they arrived over the lightly guarded enclaves of two rival clans slightly ahead of news of the subsequent debacle).

Unfortunately, the Clans had the incredible bad luck when crossing into the Lyran Commonwealth to run into Galahad '83, the first live-fire wargame comprising much of the fleets of the Great Houses and Periphery combined. The Khan of Clan Smoke Jaguars, who did not realize the fifteen warships holding station in front of his vast armarda were simply an observation and referee force waiting for the massive Inner Sphere fleets to arrive in the next fifteen minutes, issued a Batchall demanding their surrender in the name of the Star League.

The Taurian Flagship responded with the infamous words "Oh God, not _you_guys again? Didn't anyone tell you we annihilated the SLDF years ago?" - delivered in jest at what the Admiral of the Fleet thought was nothing more than a target drone and a humerous dig at the Terran Hegemony ships that would be participating in the exercise for the first time, defending against an 'invading Star League'. They were of course possibly the poorest choice of worlds the Taurian could have made, at which point the Clan Flagship made the mistake of opening fire.

The Live Fire Wargames that year, when the rest of the participating fleets arrived ten minutes later, were considered some of the most successful ever hosted, much praise going to the Archon for such a splendid and realistic exercise. It would be an embarassing **nine and a half hours** before anyone in authority realized that some of the 'enemy SLDF' forces had _not_been the Lyran target drones everyone thought they were...


End file.
